Win, Lose or Law
by Babylawyer
Summary: Law students AU. Regina Mills and Robin Locksley are first year law classmates who find each other very attractive. When they succumb to that attraction they end up in a friends with benefits arrangement. As they navigate their second semester of law school they grow closer and find comfort in each other when things go awry. But will they ever be more than casual?
1. December

**Just a thing to know, 1L is law student speak for first year**

* * *

Regina Mills can't believe this day has finally come, she survived her first set of law school exams. She is finally free of schoolwork, at least until they return from Christmas break, though she should probably use her break to get ahead on work. Tonight, though, is not a time to think about work, it is a night of celebrating. And because the threat of readings to do and papers to write isn't looming over her, Regina has had a bit more to drink than usual (a lot more, there was so much wine at her place, and then a couple of vodka sodas here). She hasn't had too much, though she's approaching it, but more than enough to loosen her up so that when her classmate Robin Locksley motions for her to join him at the bar, she actually does.

She's been avoiding him, because she was pretty sure he's been flirting with her for the past month. Something she would have been fine with, more than because well, he's gorgeous, but he has a girlfriend. She isn't confident enough in her self control to be around him and not engage with it. It's easy to fall into what is surely just harmless flirting to him. Lately, she's been aloof and cagey because, though she knows it can't be more than that, she keeps reading too much into words and looks because she's so damn attracted to him. Her attraction to him is a fact that's become harder to deny the more time she spends around him. What makes it even worse is that he has an accent, which she finds almost unbearably sexy. She constantly has to remind herself that he's taken and she should push those thoughts aside. That's why it's been easier to just avoid him. However, tonight they are celebrating, she's a bit drunk, and there really would be no harm in just talking to him, right? She can control herself, at least she thinks she can, and if not she can blame it on the alcohol.

When she reaches the bar there's a round of whiskey shots lined up which she learns are for "surviving their first semester of 1L." It burns as it goes down and she almost gags, can't help but shudder, coughing lightly after causing Robin to chuckle beside her. She shoots him a glare, it's bad form to mock someone like that, but it doesn't stop the snickering beside her.

They had written five exams in ten days, the only section with that many (because of the joys of alphabetical division of classes, she's never hated having an H-N last name quite so much before), and so almost all of their section is out celebrating, the bar crawling with law students because the undergrad exam period is already over. Exams were exhausting and she has not yet recovered. She knows some people who started drinking right at noon, as soon as they were done, but she would be in bed already if she had done that. Instead, she went for lunch after the exam with some friends, including Robin, which had become a sort of tradition over the past week and a half.

It started after their third exam. It was on a Friday and while they were exiting the exam John Little, Robin's roommate, had asked if anyone wanted to grab lunch. Regina had gone, as had her friends Kathryn Midas and Mal Lindwurm, and a couple of the guys, John and Robin then some others from their section she didn't know all that well, Ruby Lucas, Mulan Liu, Arthur King and Killian Jones. They had a drink with lunch then went their separate ways. After Monday's exam, John proposed the same thing and they gained a few others. And today's lunch had even more people, some of whom got rowdier than others.

After lunch, Regina went home and took a long nap, which is the only reason she is still up, and still drinking.

"How did you end up all alone?" asks Robin.

Regina's just about to answer him when Kathryn, who she came with, joins them, and immediately begins unloading. "Ugh did you see David and Mary Margaret sneak off toward the bathroom? It's bad enough I have to see them all the time but I really didn't appreciate seeing them making out on my way there. You'd think they would have the decency not to throw it in my face."

Regina lets out a sound of sympathy, but doesn't really know what to say. Kathryn and David came to law school as a couple. They had met in undergrad and dated all four years, and everyone had thought it was just a matter of time before they got married. Lucky for Kathryn, her father had insisted she get her own place, as their four year relationship ended soon after David met Mary Margaret Blanchard at their law school orientation in August.

"They are quite nauseating aren't they?" remarks Robin before asking, "Anyone in for another shot?"

"Oh my god yes! You are the _best_ Robin," squeals Kathryn and oh, Kathryn is more drunk than Regina realized.

Regina knows she probably shouldn't do another shot, neither should Kathryn, but Regina's not her babysitter, and the last thing she wants is a drunken lecture about being a killjoy. Regina's not normally the shots type, doesn't like to drink too much, just to a good buzz, nothing that will give her a hangover. Of course, that went out the window several rounds ago.

Kathryn shoots her a look before exclaiming, "Regina come on, we're done, celebrate!" When Regina doesn't protest Kathryn announces, "It's decided, she's having one too."

Robin gives her a 'you sure?' look before flagging the bartender. He gets something different, a Washington Apple, something she suspects is probably easier than straight whiskey after her little mishap earlier.

After the shots—which Regina handles like a pro—Kathryn decides it's time to hit the dancefloor, no doubt in search of a new guy that she will hear all about over brunch the next morning.

"You know I wouldn't mind a dance with the prettiest girl here," says Robin with a wink and a smirk.

Okay, that was definitely flirting and she decides it's time to call him out on it (probably also time to stop drinking). "Wouldn't your girlfriend have an opinion on that?" she asks sassily.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I don't have a girlfriend." He smirks, "I mean unless you're offering…"

Oh no, he's not getting off the hook that easy. "But what about Marian? I met her at your party."

His brows furrow, "Marian and I broke up that same night, we talked about it and realized we hadn't been working for a long time. We were just hanging on because we had been together so long. The distance really made clear all the things that weren't working."

And now Regina feels stupid, and also a little bad, she hasn't been the nicest to him because she thought he was being skeezy, when it turns out he was actually harmlessly flirting with her. "Well, uh, that's good to know."

"So this whole time you thought I was with someone." He sounds far too cocky about it.

"Yeah, so, what difference does that make?" she sasses back.

He leans in, "Well, you see, I was beginning to get worried you weren't interested."

Regina can't resist a biting, "What makes you think I am now?"

"Well for starters we are having this conversation, and you never told me off, despite thinking I had a girlfriend."

"Mm, I guess that's true."

"You guess?" he asks with arched brows.

She pushes his arm playfully, "Maybe I just didn't want to be rude."

"Well until you tell me not to, I'm going to keep flirting with you, if that's alright with you."

She tamps down a smile as she tells him, "Fine by me."

They continue chatting while standing at the bar for a while, until Robin suggests they go some place quieter so they can talk more. Regina agrees, knowing full well they might not get to talking if they are alone. She has goodbyes to say first though, so she makes the rounds while he settles his tab.

She makes her way back to the bar thinking he will still be there but he's not. She looks around and spies him right by the door, at coat check. She's glad she saw him first because it gives her the chance to pull her coat check tag out of her bra before she walks over.

There is a group of very drunk girls in front of her in line and of course, one of them can't find their tag. She rolls her eyes and then catches Robin's eye. There isn't much room where he is, and he's in the way of the door. As the girls push more forward Robin gestures at the door and she nods. She'll meet him outside, that is, if she ever makes it past this gaggle of idiots.

When she finally gets her coat and purse, she puts her coat on and makes her way outside. She feels the temperature drop as she steps outside, it's chilly, as is expected in December in Canada, but she's surprisingly warm.

"God, you are stunning," Robin says from his spot leaning against the window to her left.

"You're not so bad yourself," she teases as she tucks in beside him so she too is out of the way.

"Just not so bad, how do I make a better impression on you milady?"

"Well you could start by addressing me properly, it's Your Majesty."

He laughs, "Oh I'm sorry I should have known you were a queen, Your Majesty."

"Yes, and you should be mindful of my title, since you are, after all, a thief." At that Robin gives her a quizzical look and she clarifies, "Aren't you also known as Robin Hood?"

He groans at that, "Oh so now you're using that too. Ugh, I shall forever curse myself for doing that debate and getting that ridiculous moniker."

"I like it and I think it suits you. Besides, there are worse things to be known for than wanting to steal from the rich and give to the poor."

"I would like to point out that's not what my party stands for, though I do believe we need to tax the rich more in order to provide more services and a more even playing field."

She's starting to get cold now, the chilly winter night air finally penetrating the warmth of her alcohol and flirtation fueled buzz. She shuffles slightly, trying to warm up because she doesn't want to stop talking with him and can't seem to stop sassing him. "Well, some would argue taxes are stealing and hence, you're Robin Hood."

He shakes his head good-naturedly. "I'm not going to win this, am I? Very well, so tell me, where to now? Perhaps some coffee?"

Regina looks down at her watch before answering, "Well, considering it's 1:30 in the morning, I don't think anything good will be open." Robin looks very disappointed and Regina doesn't want the night to end either, so she finds herself offering, "I do have a very good espresso machine at home, just a couple blocks from here."

She's only a five-minute walk away, which is good because the cold is really starting to set in. God, she hates winter, but at least it's not _that bad_ tonight, it was -6C earlier, not the -25C it was the other day (which thankfully wasn't an exam day so she never left her house).

"Well, that sounds rather perfect, doesn't it." He says, and then grabbing her hand he adds, "Lead the way."

When he touches her hand all she can think about is how good those hands would feel on other parts of her. She imagines him running his hands down her back, lower and lower and oh, it would be good. As they walk, he tells her about his work the previous summer as an archery instructor, and all she can think about was how that means he must be good with his hands. She definitely drank too much tonight, _oops_ , she had six drinks before those shots, or was it seven, in any event, it's a good thing they are done with school. What was she thinking? Right, his hands, those firm hands running up and down her spine, his fingers slipping into her—god, she really needs to get her hormones in check because as much as Robin has been flirting, Regina is not the one-night stand type.

They get to her house and she fiddles with the key. He followed her up the stairs to the little entry, which doesn't leave much space between them, and she can feel his breath on the back of her neck, and man does it ever feel nice.

He has to step down so she can open the door and they filter in. She hangs her coat and he hangs his, and he follows her lead when she takes off her boots, which she appreciates. She's had a few people over who have not taken off their shoes in her home, which irritates her to no end because she keeps a clean floor and she then has to mop when they leave, completely unnecessarily.

They pass the stairs as they enter the living area. Her place isn't huge, considering it's a house, but it's just her, so it's plenty. She nods when Robin asks if it's just her as she turns on her Breville and grabs two mugs from the cabinets. She asks what he wants, makes a Latte for him and an Americano for herself, trying to subtly make it clear this is a coffee date, that her invitation back to her place was not code for sex.

She leads him to her table and they sit, making small talk while they stare at each other over their coffees.

He has gorgeous eyes, eyes that are currently fixated on her lips. She's pretty sure he's thinking about kissing her, and they will definitely be doing that before he leaves, but that will be it. They will make out a little and then she'll send him home, and if he wants to see her again he can call her.

That plan goes out the window once he actually kisses her, though. She finished her coffee and stood up, putting her mug in the dishwasher, and when she turned after closing it he was right behind her. He set his mug down on the counter behind her, getting closer so he could reach it, then crashed his lips against hers. It's hot and passionate and she lets out a little moan when he deepens the kiss, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her in closer. She's never been so turned on by a simple kiss before. It has been a while, a long while, but that's no excuse for her to be feeling this riled up, this soon. She's wet already, and all they've done is kiss, it's insane. His lips part from hers to trail along her jawline and she can't help the little sound of approval she makes.

He moves back up to her lips for another hungry kiss. She shifts closer to him so their bodies are pressed against each other and oh, that was a bad idea, because now she can feel him half-hard against her and she wants him, badly. Fuck, she is not going to be able to sleep without getting off tonight.

He moves his hands down her back and gently squeezes her ass. She smirks for a second, which is cut off by a loud moan when he runs his mouth down her neck, kissing and sucking with just enough pressure to make her ache.

"Oh fuck that's good," she breathes out as he flicks his tongue out over the side of her neck right where he just sucked. He moves his mouth up right beside her ear and asks, "Did you like that?" in a breathy tone that makes her clench.

"What do you think?" she asks in a voice far too breathless for her liking, but it's the best she can do under the circumstances.

"I think so. Do tell, what else do you like, milady?" he asks, still breathing right into her ear.

Fuck, her self control is waning, because what he is doing right now is the answer to his question. Hot breaths and whispered promises in her ear never fail to light her up. She shudders as he takes her ear lobe gently between his teeth and she cries out when he licks the sensitive patch of skin right behind it. Her legs are shaking, and she pushes him toward the living room and then down onto the couch. She climbs on top of him, kissing him greedily and grinding against his erection to get some attention where she is currently aching for him.

"You feel so good," he whispers, staring up at her with sultry eyes before pulling her back down for another heady kiss.

They kiss and kiss, her rocking against him, growing wetter and wetter, her breath shaky, chest heaving, thighs clenching.

She moans when he nips her earlobe again, she draws him in for another kiss. He's such a good kisser, so good with his mouth.

She's surprised when he pulls away after that, both of them breathing heavily. He leaves one hand on her face stroking her cheek as he tells her, "I should go milady, as much as I am enjoying this, and believe me _I am_ , we've been drinking and I wouldn't want to take advantage."

It really is the perfect opportunity for her to say goodnight—because she wasn't going to have sex with him—but his sweet speech pushes her to say, "You wouldn't be taking advantage. I want you to stay."

Fuck it, she's going to sleep with him, she's twenty-three and they both want it, so what's the problem? A voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother tells her this is improper, but she pushes those thoughts away in favour of kissing him again.

Now that she's decided that they are doing this, she needs them to pick up the pace. She's already so wet, and is dying for more stimulation, for him to really touch her. She could get off like this, but that's not what she really wants. So when he trails his lips down her neck again, she makes quick work of removing his shirt, then starts on his belt. Thankfully, Robin gets the message and starts taking off her dress.

She sends up a silent thank you to her past self for wearing a nice bra and panties, matching scraps of silk, not her usual unsexy nude bra and random underwear. She stands up so her dress can fall away and Robin groans out a, ' _Fuck you're gorgeous'._

They take a minute to look at each other, both drinking in all the newly exposed skin. God, she could look at Robin's bare chest for hours, he has strong arms and she can see the outline of his abs. She's longing to run her finger over them, feel his muscles jump under her touch. She starts to move back to where she was, so she can straddle him, but he stops her.

"Perhaps we should take this to your bedroom, love." God his voice is sexy and yes, yes they should.

She leads him up the stairs to her room, taking them at a brisk pace that's probably not smart with the amount of alcohol in her system, but they both make it up unscathed. As soon as they are in the door, he surprises her by picking her up and carrying her toward the bed. She puts her arms around his neck and pulls him down for another searing kiss as he places her the wrong way across her bed. She's laying down, her knees bent and hanging off the edge as his one hand trails down her leg, causing her to let out a satisfied sigh, while his other moves under her back to unclasp her bra. She arches her back to accommodate him, and once her bra is off he grabs her, rolling her nipple in his fingers as she inhales sharply. She's not normally this sensitive there, but he seems to instinctively know the right way to touch her, which only makes her anticipation grow.

When he takes her nipple in his mouth and bites gently she cries out wantonly and warmth spreads down her body. Fuck, this is so hot but she needs more, and soon. She feels like she's going to implode if he doesn't touch her clit, she is throbbing with anticipation. She needs more friction and squeezing her legs together isn't cutting it.

Thankfully, Robin's moving his head lower and lower, kissing a trail down her stomach. Regina watches his descent, anxious for him to get where she really needs. He ghosts his fingers over her swollen clit ever so gently and Regina whines, aching for more acute stimulation.

"Patience, love," he says dipping one finger into her and moaning when he realizes just how wet she is. "You're soaked."

"Yeah," is all she can manage to breathe out because he hooks another finger in her and starts thrusting them. It isn't exactly what she really needs but it's good. It's made even better when he crooks them upwards toward her front wall and finds her g-spot.

"Oh god, yeah, there," she pants out as he continues to push up against that spot.

"Yeah, you like that Regina, like my fingers hitting you just there?"

She nods, and oh god she's becoming more and more turned on by the second, her clit is throbbing and aching for him to touch it.

What he does is much better though. He kneels, placing kisses along her inner thighs as her breath hitches with the realization of where he's headed. "Do you want my mouth?"

"Yes, oh god, please."

He smirks then keeps kissing her inner thighs, making her clench around his fingers.

He tells her, "Just be patient," and she groans in lieu of a real response.

She jerks involuntarily when he finally puts his mouth on her clit, using his free hand to hold her down as he licks her. He starts out gently, but acquiesces to her embarrassing begging, and thrusts his fingers harder while swirling his tongue around her, licking and sucking. And oh god, someone going down on her has never been this hot. She can feel herself growing closer and closer, her whole body a livewire, and then she loses the ability to speak as he takes her over the edge. She jerks, spasms, and cries out wordlessly as release and sweet relief floods her. He keeps it up through her orgasm, until it becomes too much and she pushes at his head, trying desperately to catch her breath.

"Watching you, hearing you was incredible," he tells her as she takes purposeful, deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.

"No," she says still fairly breathless, " _that_ was incredible. And now I want to show you what I can do."

She grabs for him, pulling him up so he's standing, intent on returning the favour and he stops her. "Are you sure? This can just be for you."

And god damn, if him being a perfect gentleman doesn't make her hot for him again.

"Take those off," she commands, gesturing to his boxers. He slips them off and she pushes him onto the bed beside her, so he's laying down. They shift, so they are the right way on the bed, and then she begins her own downward descent, delighting in every moan and groan he lets out. She grabs the base of him gently before swirling her tongue down and around him.

"Oh god so good," he breathes out and then she takes him her mouth, slowly inching down and testing her reach. "Oh god, you feel _so_ good."

"Just you wait," she tells him, then settles in. She finds her rhythm soon enough, despite being out of practice, and is bobbing up and down with enthusiasm, using her hand to compensate for what she can't take in her mouth. His hips jerk on one of her downward passes and she gags, her eyes watering and her nose beginning to run. He's instantly apologetic, but she waves it off and continues.

The sounds he's letting out are to die for. And soon he's begging her, "Oh f-fuck, stop Regina, I- fuck, too close, please."

She stops just for a second to give him an option, "I can keep going and finish you, or you could finish inside me, your call."

She's hoping he'll pick the latter, because hearing him light up for her has stoked her arousal, and she's getting desperate for attention again.

"Oh fuck darling, yes want to be inside you, so bad."

Thank god. She reaches over toward her nightstand, opening the drawer and fishing out a condom. She goes to put it on him but he stops her.

"I just need a minute to cool down," he says, voice still shaky as his hands move down her back, one coming along the front to stroke her clit in quick circles that have her crying out. His other hand comes around and dips inside her and he smirks proclaiming, "God you are insatiable," as he takes in just how wet she is again, or still.

She moans in agreement as he picks up the pace with his hands and damn he is _good_ with his hands. She could easily come from this, but that isn't what she wants, she wants to feel him, wants to know what he feels like inside her. He's not huge, but he's thick, will give her that good stretch and full feeling. She lets herself bask in the pleasure of his fingers for a few moments, before reaching down for the condom she apparently dropped at some point in her distraction. When she grabs it she holds it up, giving him a pointed look.

This time he lets her put it on and she gives him a few quick strokes before climbing on top of him, lining him up with her entrance and sinking down on him. She gives herself a minute to stretch out to accommodate him, and fuck it's good, before she starts gently thrusting on top of him. She fiddles around with the angle, shifting forward and back, before letting out a throaty moan when he lines up just right and the pleasure surges.

"That it?" Robin asks her.

She just nods, then cries out when Robin thrusts up into her and moves his hand to her clit, stroking it ever so lightly, the other groping her ass. She loves it, loves being grabbed, it's hot. This is so fucking good and she needs more. She picks up the pace, which has them both moaning, then kissing sloppily and desperately.

Robins hand on her clit starts circling faster and harder, setting her on fire and making it hard for her to keep up her rhythm. Robin thrusts up into her and she stutters out a loud cry of ' _Yes'_ , letting him do the work for a second.

"Fuck love, I c-can't, I'm so close," Robin warns as she resumes thrusting on him.

"Me too," she breathes as she focuses on the feeling of him inside of her and touching her. He feels amazing in her, and god, it's fantastic, just what she needs.

She feels herself approaching the edge as Robin tells her, "God let go for me, please love, want to feel you come on my cock, you feel so incredible, please come for me. Show me how I make you feel."

And oh fuck, there it is, she's coming with a loud shout, everything releasing and leaving her breathless and feeling like jelly. She wants nothing more than to lie back and enjoy the afterglow, but Robin hasn't come yet. She can see him fighting not to thrust into her, trying to give her the moment she needs.

She flips them and tells him to go for it. And that he does, going hard and fast. It's not long before he's spilling into the condom, crying out.

They sit in silence on her bed for a moment, her cuddled up in his chest. All of a sudden it's much too intimate for her. She pushes him away and excuses herself to the bathroom, and panics a little. She's never done anything quite like this, and she isn't sure what happens next. Her mind's running wild, what does this mean? Will they do it again? God she hopes so. Is he going to stay? What does he want from her? She wills herself to calm down, but comes back to her room a bit anxiously.

Robin's sitting up on her bed having discarded the condom in her trash, and he must sense her hesitation because he offers, "I can go if you want, or I can stay, it's up to you."

Which really doesn't help Regina because she doesn't know what she wants. She knows she won't regret this, having slept with him, in the morning because the sex was too good for regrets. But she isn't sure how she'll feel waking up next to him, and she doesn't sleep well with others anyway. So yeah, him leaving is probably best, after all, it's not like she will regret not letting him stay over, right?

"Um, yeah, uh, you should probably go, I have brunch with Kathryn, Mal and Zelena in the morning anyway, so, uh, thanks," she stammers out rather awkwardly, cursing herself for how shaky her voice is.

"Okay," he says smiling, "Walk me out?"

On the way out of her room he notices the second bedroom, her office and guest room and makes another comment how much space she has, which just makes her wonder how small his place must be. She knows she has it good where she lives, a small old but fully renovated house all to herself in an actual residential area, not chock full of undergrads and loud parties. Her parents pay for this place, it's why she can afford it and why she doesn't have a roommate, but she knows a lot of people aren't that lucky. As much as her mother is a huge bitch, she tries to be grateful for the good things she does have.

She opens the door for him awkwardly, and he gives her a quick kiss on his way out. She tries to push down the thoughts of 'what does this mean' in favour of bidding him goodnight.

When she returns to her room she groans as she looks at the time, 3:50 AM. Thank god they always go for actual brunch, and not breakfast. As she lays down to sleep, she realizes that this time _she's_ going to be the one with a brunch story.

* * *

Regina's hungover, quite hungover. She almost skips it, but girls brunch after a night of drinking is a sort of tradition for Mal, Regina, Zelena and Kathryn. They bitch about their hangovers, and tell stories of their night, over bottomless coffee and breakfast at Granny's Diner.

Their waitress comes over immediately, thank god because Regina _needs_ coffee. She feels dead on her feet, and the ibuprofen she took hasn't kicked in to kill the tightness in her head.

She orders coffee, as do Kathryn and Zelena, but not Mal. Regina always knows how Mal's night went based on her drink order, if it was good she has coffee, if it was bad a Mimosa, and if it was really bad a Caesar. So when Mal orders a Caesar—which really is a disgusting drink, who willingly drinks Clamato juice—Regina gives her sympathetic look and asks, "That bad huh?"

"I'm dying," says Mal, and she looks a little queasy. "Hopefully a little hair of the dog helps me out, I went way too hard on the tequila shots last night."

That makes Regina wince, tequila is not her friend, she avoids it like the plague.

"Ugh I feel ya," says Kathryn empathetically. "I tried to drown out the image of Mary Margaret and David making out with shots of… who knows what, and sadly that's one of the only parts of last night I remember."

"Well I had a wicked time last night," says Zelena. "Though I probably didn't have quite as much fun as my sister, who I saw leaving with a boy."

"Ooh, Regina spill!" urges Kathryn too loudly. Mal winces and shushes her, which Kathryn ignores as she tries and fails to hide her excitement.

"Oh please," says Mal pausing to thank their waitress for her drink, and taking a sip while Regina downs a quarter of her coffee in one gulp. "They probably just split a cab or something. Regina never has good stories."

Regina wants to be offended by that statement, but she knows it's true. Her main priority is school, and she doesn't let anything pull her focus away from doing well. She goes out to most of the events, because she knows the value of taking a break, but she stays relatively sober, and always makes it home at a decent hour. She can't afford to spend her days in bed hungover. There are readings and assignments to do, outlines to make, and notes to review. Regina is by far the most studious of their group, a trait they admire, and also make fun of her for.

"Was it Robin?" asks Kathryn, and Regina nearly chokes on her mouthful of coffee, "I saw you two flirting last night."

"Who's Robin?" asks Zelena, and then her face lights up with recognition. "Wait… Robin Hood? Steal from the rich give to the poor guy?"

She rolls her eyes, "Yes that Robin, though he hates that nickname, and we uh, hung out for a bit after leaving the bar." She blushes a little thinking back on their night together.

"Well, I'll be damned! Little one finally went and got some, good for you, it has been _way_ too long and you definitely needed it," remarks Mal.

"Wait, you had sex with him?" squeals Kathryn far too loud once again, and god, what is with her today? Her loud tone causes other tables to look over at them and makes Regina blush even harder. "That's so not like you," Kathryn adds, this time speaking at an appropriate volume.

"Perhaps we should let my little sister actually tell the story and not just speculate."

It's times like these Regina hates Zelena, because she had been content to let them speculate and then change the subject, so she tries a different tactic.

"You said you had a wicked night, but mine was better—how would we know that if we don't hear about your night first?" Regina states in a last ditch attempt to pull focus from herself. She saw Zelena with Hades Underwood the night before and so knows this story could go on for a while. Zelena tends to go on and on when she has a story, and with her and Hades, there's _always_ a story.

"Oh, mine was the usual, had some drinks courtesy of Hades, and then danced for hours before going home. Your turn sis."

That is the quickest Zelena has discussed anything, ever. Regina is really not one to kiss and tell. It's normally Kathryn or Mal with these kinds of stories and she listens eagerly. But now they are all looking at her curiously and so she sighs, "Um, well, we went back to my place and we, uh, well… you know."

"No we don't 'know'. You what? Jesus Regina, you aren't a nun, spill it," comes from Mal, urging her to get on with it.

She knows Mal will pry and pry until she gets all the information, so she bites the bullet. "We had sex, okay. Now can we leave it alone?"

Kathryn and Zelena both look shocked and Mal looks almost bored.

"Was it good?" asks Kathryn. "Oh, and are you going to see him again, do you like him?"

Brunch is starting to feel a bit like an inquisition, and leave it to Kathryn to ask the hard questions. At least she knows the answer to one of them, so she starts with that. "It was very _very_ good. I don't know if I'll see him again, I don't have time for a boyfriend, school is my main priority. Plus, he's going back to England for the Christmas break, so I won't see him for a couple of weeks anyway."

Zelena pipes up then, "I didn't see him when I picked you up this morning, and I was early. How early did you make this guy get up to avoid this conversation?"

She would think that. "He left last night actually."

"Wow didn't even want to stay the night? That's rough," remarks Mal and she downs the rest of her Caesar. A full drink before their food arrives—it must have been a really rough night. Her mind goes places it shouldn't for a minute, but she focuses back in on the conversation.

Regina glares at her, "It wasn't like that, he asked me if I wanted him to stay or go, and I told him to go."

Just as she expects, a follow up comes from Mal. "And why didn't you ask him to stay if it was _so good_."

"Can we please just drop this?"

All three shake their heads emphatically. She gets a slight break when their waitress brings their food. A western omelette for Zelena, eggs royale for her, steak and eggs for Mal, and french toast for Kathryn. Mal orders another Caesar and when she catches Regina's eye, Mal gives her a look, daring her to comment. She keeps it to herself and hopes everyone will dig in and forget about her, but they look at her expectantly.

"Fine," growls Regina, and they all start eating, "I just got a little freaked out. I didn't know what to expect, I've never taken someone home like that before so I figured it was best if he left."

She cuts into her eggs as Mal remarks, far too casually, "Ah there it is, the good old Mills fear of commitment rearing its head,"

She finishes cutting, spearing a bite as she tells her, "I'm not afraid of commitment. I'm just too busy with school right now."

Her first bite is amazing, just what she needs, she loves the hollandaise here. And now that she's eaten something, her stomach seems to suddenly realize it's starving. She takes another bite that's ruined by Mal's, "Oh please Regina, you haven't dated anyone seriously since Daniel and that was five years ago. And don't say Graham because even though you went out for a long time it was always casual."

"Maybe she's just waiting for the right person," says Zelena and Regina's grateful for her sister's support. It's kind of an odd feeling, given how long Zelena spent trying to ruin Regina's life, but that's over, and they are past it, mostly.

Mal turns her attention to Zelena as Regina devours her brunch. "You're one to talk, you have it too. I called it the Mills fear of commitment for a reason. Zelena you need to get over yourself, stop pining over Hades and just go out with him already, he only stopped asking you because you rejected him so many times."

"Maybe keeping it casual is better," says Kathryn bitterly, "then at least they won't break your heart when they find someone else and flaunt it in your face all the time."

"Oh my god, Kathryn not everything is about _you!_ It's been three months. David and Mary Margaret are together, you are going to see them, _get over it._ You don't have to like it, but I for one, am sick of hearing you bitch about them daily," hisses Mal before grabbing her new drink and taking a big gulp.

Kathryn's clearly offended and Regina thinks about saying something in her defence, but she can see Mal's point, all Kathryn ever talks about is David and Mary Margaret. Their waitress comes and tops off everyone's coffees before Regina can decide whether to say anything. They eat in relative silence until Zelena breaks the ice with a funny story about watching Killian Jones slip and completely faceplant the night before.

When they leave the diner they agree to try and stay in touch over the break and set a brunch date for their first weekend back. When Regina checks her phone she has a text from Robin.

 _I hope you are feeling okay this morning :). I'm getting on the plane now so have a wonderful break and I'll see you when we get back._

She smiles at first, excited to see him again and then tells herself to rein it in. After all, he probably just wants to have sex again. Having sex again is fine by her because it's all she has time for anyway. She isn't going to text him back because he is away, she'll wait to see him. She's not going to be that girl who obsesses over his text. She's not going to spend her break worrying about a boy, so she vows to put him out of her mind until she sees him again.

Instead, she spends her break worrying about what it all means, and cursing herself for becoming so stupid over a boy. She convinces herself it's just because the sex was so good. Her brain had released oxytocin and she's having a natural reaction to it, but she doesn't like him, not like that. He's just an attractive guy who's very good in bed, one that she wants to sleep with again, but that's it. And if it doesn't happen again, oh well, she'll be fine, because it was just sex. The more she thinks about it, the more she convinces herself she doesn't have feelings for him.


	2. January I

He's spent his holidays in the U.K. with his family and it was great, he really missed his mum. There was something off about her, he couldn't quite place it but she assured him she was fine, so he let it go, but he still has this nagging feeling something is wrong that will not go away.

Even with that, he has to admit he's excited to come back. It's not about school, lord knows he hates the workload, it's about her, Regina. He cannot wait to see her again, there's just something about her. He doesn't know what it is, but from the first time he saw her he was drawn to her, and now that he's had her, it's much worse. He spent his entire break dreaming of being with her again. He's a little (a lot) bummed that she didn't message him, but it's a busy time so he understands.

He texts her when he gets into the airport in Toronto, waiting for his layover. It's three hours plus the flight time, which is about what the drive would be, but is ultimately faster, and is the cheapest to get back to Kingston. Maybe it's too much to be texting her right when he gets back on Canadian soil, especially when she never answered his first message, but oh well, he's never been good at any of the dating rules. He's not the type to wait the stupid three days. He called Marian the day she gave him her number, and he texted Regina the morning after their night together, would have that night, but it felt a little too forward.

It's just, he's wanted her for ages, and the reality was so much better than all of his fantasies combined. He can't wait to do it again, doesn't know what he will do if she doesn't want to.

He makes his way to the Starbucks, he needs some caffeine. He had to be at the airport at 5:30 am and he is _not_ an early riser normally. He tried to sleep on the plane but it is was without success, so he played Catan aimlessly on his phone until the older woman beside him woke up and started talking to him. He knows most people prefer a silent seatmate, but not him, he's always secretly happy when he sees his seatmate is older, there's a much greater chance they will entertain him. You can learn so much from a person if you are willing to listen.

While he's still in the Starbucks line, his phone buzzes with a ' _Welcome back'_ from Regina Mills.

He sends back a question about when she will be arriving in Kingston as he approaches the Barista. He orders a peppermint mocha, grimacing at the price, but that's Starbucks, and with an added bonus of the airport premium. That's why he doesn't indulge all that often. It's a luxury for him, one that would barely register in most of his classmates' budgets, not that they would even have a budget.

There's a clear divide at their school, the legacy students—or at least the ones who seem to fit in with the reputation of Queens as an old money school—and the first generation students. The people like him, the naive new law students who didn't realize the rampant nepotism in the profession, and how disadvantaged they are right off the bat from not having a relative who is a lawyer.

He tries not to let it get to him, he wants to be a lawyer to help people for god's sake. He wants to work for legal aid, to work for people who cannot afford representation. Why should having connections matter? Yet it does. While most of his classmates are focused on those few 1L positions at a seven sisters firm (the biggest seven law firms in the country), he's waiting for the clinic jobs to pop up, and also praying he will get into the volunteer clinic this semester. He really wants to know how they pick the first years, because he has seen some of the lucky few that got in, and none of them care about the clinic's clientele, they just see it as a stepping stone to their next job.

His name gets called and he grabs his drink, finds an open spot and settles, opening up his Queens Prison Law Clinic application. He tries to figure out how to make it stand out. This is the reason he wanted to be a lawyer. He has first-hand experience with the wrong side of the law. He was granted a break, and turned his life around, his life would be so different if he hadn't gotten a break, if he had went to jail. His experience with the law, with being given a second chance, profoundly shaped him. He shied away from talking about that the last time and got nothing, not even an interview, so he puts it all on paper, gets it out. He probably won't use it, but it's there.

When he finishes and meanders to his new gate he thinks of Regina. She could help him with this, she's the only 1L at the family law clinic. It's rare they take volunteers, let alone a 1L, but somehow she got it.

So when she answers his text telling him she'll be in Kingston tomorrow, he finds himself asking for the favour before he can lose his nerve. Unsurprisingly, she is more than happy to help, he knows some people find her cold but beneath her aloof exterior is a warm heart and a person willing to go the extra mile for those she cares about.

He's nervous to send it to her, maybe even more nervous than sending it in for some reason. It's probably because she will tell him if it's total shit (which it probably is) and then she will know how stupid he is. Whereas, when he sends it in, it's over, and if it's shit he will never know for sure, it will just get discarded.

He tells her how he has two letters and he's unsure which to send. She urges him to send her both, which is more work for her. He tries to talk her out of it, but she insists, and he would be a fool to turn that down. He needs all the help he can get.

He spends his connecting flight editing and revising both letters, praying she won't think he's a moron because of what is in them. He agonizes over sentence structures and content, ends up writing and revising the same sentence five times, until he decides how it was at first was actually best.

He takes a cab from the airport to his apartment, goes over each letter one last time, then sends them off. He could easily spend all day tweaking, but it has to end at some point and he needs to eat and unpack. He should walk to the grocery store and at least pick up some essentials because they had cleared out the fridge before leaving. All that's left is some questionable milk, a bottle of ketchup, mayo and some margarine. He gives the milk the sniff test and it seems okay so he grabs the last box of Kraft Dinner, that and the chicken noodle soup in the pantry will tide him over until John gets back tomorrow with the car. He can always order a pizza if need be, or walk to the coffee shop and get a sandwich. It's good that he's relatively broke because Coffee Way Donuts is only a five minute walk from their place and everything there is delicious. The donuts are to die for, but his budget limits him, which ultimately is good for his health. He's become quite sedentary in law school, half the time his only exercise is his 20 minute walk to and from school.

He needs to change that, he used to be fit and is losing all of his muscle mass, he should get back to the gym.

His phone lights up with another text from Regina telling him she'll take a look at his letter the next day if that's okay. He rushes to reassure her, she is doing him a favour here. He also asks if she wants to hang out at some point during the week. She proposes Friday night, which is perfect because John is away for the weekend, off to visit his girlfriend Merida. They've been having trouble, and Robin will be shocked if they last the rest of the school year. It seems the more problems they have, the more tightly they hang on. They aren't happy, that much is clear, but John swears he wants to make it work, so Robin keeps his thoughts about that to himself, though even that is becoming increasingly hard.

He can't wait to see Regina, Friday can't come fast enough. He'll see her in class, but that's different. She's so focused there, so beautiful, perched in the front row, diligently taking notes by hand. It's only her and Ruby who take notes by hand in their classes. He knows Ruby's is a necessity, she's been saving up for a laptop, and has been relying on the library computers in the interim, which is clearly not the case for Regina.

Ruby comes to their first class with a shiny new laptop, so he makes a point to ask her about it. He ends up taking the spot beside her, so he can get the story. It turns out her grandmother is the owner of Granny's Diner, and bought it for her for Christmas.

He gets a little distracted during their conversation when he spies Regina sitting down in her spot. She looks absolutely stunning. She cut her hair, just a bit, nothing drastic, but it looks good. He wants to run his hands through it, pull it as he buries himself in her, and other inappropriate things he should not be thinking about before Belfry's criminal law class.

Ruby laughs aloud at his reaction, and ribs him goodnaturedly until the class starts, then falls blessedly silent.

* * *

She doesn't know what to wear. Regina's changed her outfit three times already, and she still isn't happy. She set aside way too much time to get ready for... well whatever tonight is with Robin. She wants to look good, but not like she's trying too hard, because this isn't a date, it's them hanging out. But, at the same time, she wants to be prepared for all the possibilities.

He had asked her if she wanted to come over and 'hang out', (whatever the hell that means) after she agreed to look at his cover letters. She's not sure whether this is just a courtesy thank you for that, or what. She accepted his offer regardless, even though her brain was screaming at her to clarify what this is. She set that aside though, and instead set a time, eight o'clock, and let it all go, or at least tried to. She's settled back into the rhythm of going to classes, and doing her readings, but she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been distracted by Robin. And that's bad, so so bad, she cannot be distracted. She needs to do well, she has to. Her mother was clear if Regina wants her financial support she has to be in the top ten percent of her class. Which, if her one midterm grade is anything to go by (a 76, exactly average) she will never make.

She confided in her father her disappointment over her mark, and of course, it got back to her mother. On Wednesday, at six PM exactly, her phone lit up with _Cora Mills is calling,_ and she got a lecture about how average is not good enough, how her parents weren't paying for her tuition and living expenses so she could be ordinary, how she needed to do better, as if she didn't already know all of that that. She's glad she stewed in her disappointment for a day before confiding in her dad because she already had a plan in place when her mother called. Her plan had placated her mother, for now at least, but it served as a reminder school has to be the top priority and she can't let a stupid boy pull her focus.

Robin has been pulling her focus because she has no fucking clue what he wants. They've never hung out before, just the two of them, outside of their drunken hook up that is, so she assumes that means something, but he's also a friendly guy so maybe it doesn't. She wishes he hadn't been so vague because not knowing what to expect always makes her anxious and tonight is no exception. She wants to be prepared for every possible outcome and that's why she's wearing one of her sexier bras, complete with matching underwear, just in case. She's not expecting anything but wants to look her best if they are going to do it again. But that's just good preparation, it doesn't mean anything.

She still has twenty minutes before she has to leave. Leaving then will get her to get to Robin's place on time, but is far too much time for her to obsess over what is going to happen tonight. He lives quite close to her, a twenty minute walk according to google, but she walks faster than their speed. She hates that she can't stop thinking and worrying about tonight, wondering what he's going to do and what he wants from her. She needs a distraction before she drives herself into a panic with all the what ifs.

No matter what she does, her thoughts turn back to Robin and she gets that anxious tightness in the pit of her stomach, her breath comes quicker, picturing all the ways she could embarrass herself. She knows she's being ridiculous but she can't stop. She tries to take a deep breath, but it comes out shaky, and all she can picture is her mother telling her to stop being so unreasonable and calm down, that she doesn't need to get all worked up. She doesn't need to be worked up about this, there is no reason for this anxiety, a normal person wouldn't think twice about this, but lucky her, she's not normal.

Sighing, she pours herself a glass of wine, hoping the alcohol will take the edge off. God, isn't she the picture of perfectly healthy habits, but alcohol had certainly lowered her inhibitions the first time they 'hung out.' She's halfway through the glass when she checks her watch again, and learns it's only been five minutes, which means she still has time before she can leave, unless she wants to be embarrassingly early or pace around outside his place like a stalker.

Ugh god, why is she like this? Why is time crawling? She tops up her glass before heading upstairs to her room to check herself out in her full-length mirror. She's wearing jeans—jeggings to be specific, they show off her ass—and a red low-cut top that shows off her ample cleavage (thank you push up bra). She wanted to wear a dress or skirt and show off her legs but it's -15°C out and she's walking to Robin's place so her bare legs would freeze right off on that walk. Bare legs aren't exactly practical in the middle of a Canadian winter. Still, she wonders if she should suck it up for the walk because pants aren't sexy. These at least are tight to her ass, they hug her like a second skin, but a skirt would also show off her legs, and maybe that's better.

She wills herself to stop thinking like that, since chances are he only wants it to be a one night thing anyway. He was probably bringing her over to be clear that it was just that one night and so it wouldn't matter what she looked like. And while that would be disappointing—only because of the loss of great sex—it's what is best anyway. She can't let anything pull her focus, and she is well aware that he has been doing just that.

She finishes her glass of wine, touches up her lipstick, and looks at the time, noting it's finally time to go. She heads back downstairs with her empty glass and puts it in the dishwasher. It's almost full so she grabs a detergent pod from under the sink. It's a bit loud so she hates running it when she's working, so she sets the delay timer so it will go off overnight when she's upstairs sleeping.

Once that's done, she goes into the entry, puts on her coat and boots. She grabs her keys off of their little hook and promptly drops them because her hand is shaking. Turns out the wine hasn't done anything to help her nerves. She pauses, closes her eyes, takes in a long, slow, deep breath. She counts to five then exhales to a count of eight, trying to visualize her heart rate dropping, and her muscles relaxing. She takes another deep breath, and tells herself it's helping, that she is feeling calmer (she's not). It's silly though, she has nothing to worry about, she's just going to see a boy who may or may not want to have sex with her again. It's no big deal, she has no reason to be this on edge. She can handle anything that happens, or at least, that's what she tells herself as she walks to Robin's place.

It's cold and she walks fast, partly because of the temperature, and partly because she left later than she intended. As much as she doesn't want to be early the thought of being late makes her anxious. Her brain is broken, she never wants to be early because that's weird but the slightest hint she will be late sends her into a tailspin.

She gets to Robin's building at 7:59 (thank you brusque temperature for fueling a quick walking pace) and finds his buzzer number on the handwritten sheet at exactly eight. She buzzes and his warm voice invites her in. He tells her fourth floor, and that he will meet her at the elevator.

He greets her at the elevator door, and any sense of calm she's tricked herself into feeling disappears. He's much more attractive than she remembered. She takes a second to stare, before following him down the hall to his apartment. He's wearing a light blue shirt that really brings out the colour of his eyes, and dark jeans. God, he looks good, and now she wishes she had worn a skirt or dress, braved the cold so she could have shown off her legs. He leads her down the hall as he asks about her walk, and she tries not to be awkwardly mute.

He opens a door and she stops in the entryway, unsure of where to go or what to do. It's a tiny entry, a door to her right to the kitchen which also looks tiny. There's no coat rack or closet she notes, but he takes off his shoes, leaving them on a randomly placed mat, so she does the same with her boots. She stands waiting and notices herself playing with her hair, she can hear her mother's voice in her head telling her to stop fidgeting. God, she's a wreck and for no good reason. She needs to get it together.

"May I take your coat?" Robin offers. Regina passes him her coat, all the while trying to keep her face neutral, and not show the nerves rolling beneath the surface.

"So, um, do I get the tour?" she asks, consciously ensuring her voice doesn't shake.

"Well, as you can see it's nothing fancy." He steps down the hall where it opens, and she follows. He points to the right where she can see what's clearly the living room, she can see a couch and a chair, "That's the living room, the kitchen is around the corner, to your left that hall is the bedrooms, the right room is mine, the other is John's and bathroom is at the end. It's not much but it does the job." He says as he's hanging her coat up in a closet that must cut into his room. It's warm, like really warm, she feels almost too warm even without her coat. Is this some kind of ploy? Or is that just her anxiety spiking?

"It's nice," she says, not really knowing what else to say. His apartment isn't what she expected, from what she can see it's sparsely decorated, but his furniture matches, and the place is clean. She's glad to know the units aren't actually as sketchy as the outside of the building, though the screen door to his balcony looks like it's about to fall off of the hinges. Maybe they just don't use that. She recognizes the sofa, it's the same as Zelena's, which is the cheapest you can get at Ikea; it's decent though, if a complete pain in the ass to assemble.

"Well it's definitely not as nice as your place," he remarks with a sly smile, and well, that would be hard to beat considering Cora's standards for Regina's living arrangements. It's laughable really, the fact that her mother has to have a guest room up to her standards yet will never visit—not that she'd ever want her to. "But we did what we could with what we had to work with. Can I get you a drink? I have a nice bottle of wine I got over the holidays we could enjoy."

Alcohol probably isn't the best idea (even though she's already indulged) but she walked over to his place, and she does love a nice glass of wine. "Yeah that sounds nice, thank you." She's still standing awkwardly, not really in the living room, but also not in the entrance anymore as he walks away. She wonders if she should follow him, then she thinks that's stupid. God she hates this, why does she have to over analyze _everything?_

Thankfully, he seems to know what she's thinking. As he walks toward the kitchen through the living room he suggests she sit down, gesturing to the sofa with an invitation to make herself at home while he grabs the wine.

She does, makes her way into the living room and sits down on his sofa. She sits on the far left edge away from the kitchen, and takes in the rest of the room. They have a big TV for how sparse/ cheap everything else is, but she's getting the sense it's more priorities than anything else. There's that Lack Ikea coffee table, in the same light wood shade as Zelena, and she wonders if Robin and John had a better time putting it together than they did. It should have been simple, but Zelena is somehow unable to understand basic instructions, and as a result, they had had to restart halfway through. Robin and John have the matching side tables and TV stand, so she suspects they had an easier time setting them up.

This isn't going so bad, she can relax, everything's fine, it's not weird. But, oh god, she looks to the kitchen—there's an archway in and a cutout that just seems to waste precious kitchen space—and she can see him pouring. What if the wine is him building his courage so he can have the talk? She lets out a loud sigh, not wanting to have the talk, but also wanting the not knowing to be over. Her brain is racing a thousand miles a minute, scenario after scenario playing in her head as she waits, each one more ridiculous than the next. She's going to make a fool of herself, that much is clear. She _needs_ this not knowing what they are doing to be over, this is torture.

He enters with the wine glasses, filled with a white. She smiles at him as he passes her one, before sitting down beside her, keeping to his side she notes, not with disappointment because she doesn't care, but with _something_.

"A toast," he says angling his body toward hers, "To second semester and to new friendships."

They clink glasses and both take a sip, never breaking eye contact. She could easily get lost in those blue eyes, but no, he said friendships, that's what this is, she had understood his message loud and clear. She isn't disappointed, this is better for her anyway. She doesn't want a relationship, since Daniel and then the mess that was Graham, she stays far far away. Relationships scare her, and with everything going on she can't add scared to that mix. Still, she notices his gaze dropping down to her cleavage as she sets her glass onto the coffee table, and she shoots him a look, causing him to blush and look mildly chastised.

"Sorry milady, you just look absolutely sinful tonight, and I'm finding myself quite distracted."

Regina smiles, pleased she at least still has some effect on him. "Maybe it was my intention to distract you."

"Well if it was then it was a smashing success."

"Mmm, do tell me what exactly do you find so distracting?" she asks coyly, purposefully leading with her chest as she grabs for her wine again.

"It's a very nice, uh, shirt, you are wearing." He says, checking out her ample cleavage before bringing his eyes back up to meet her amused gaze.

"Is that all it brings out?" she asks, watching him swallow nervously, god she's missed flirting. This is the downside of her solitude, missing out on this.

"I think you are trying to get me to say something inappropriate."

Yes, yes she is. "Whatever gave you that impression?" she asks, far too innocently, but with a grin on her face.

The look he gives her in response tells her he's not buying her faux innocence. He's definitely flirting with her. Even though he said friends, there's the potential to at least have some fun. He's clearly attracted to her. She's just not really sure how to broach the subject. She settles on asking whether John's home. He's staring unabashedly again, and it's making her pulse stutter, making the room warmer. She's flushed, she must be, but hopefully, it's subtle enough to be blamed on the wine.

"Nah, he went home for the weekend," responds Robin.

"I see," she says, and tries to not to get too excited over the fact that he invited her over when it was just the two of them, _alone_. She knows that must have been intentional and he clearly wants her based on how he's been blatantly checking her out, eyes currently fixated on her lips. But he had said friends, so he's clearly only interested in sex, and that's good, it's what she wants too. Really it's perfect—or at least that's what she tells herself, denying that it could be anything more. More is just too much, she can't handle anything but sex, so this is good. But Regina still needs to know exactly what they are doing, needs to have rules to keep her feelings (not that she has any) in check.

She finished off the last of her glass, and it was a good wine, a Riesling she thinks, and most likely a German one. "Listen, Robin, I think we should talk about what happened before the break, just to make sure we are on the same page…"

She stops then, trailing off, prompting him to say, "Go on."

She had been hoping he would take charge of the conversation but that isn't the case so she continues, if a bit begrudgingly, "I don't have time for a relationship, and I don't want one. If you're interested maybe we could keep sleeping together? I, um, totally understand if you don't want to…"

He interrupts her then, as she's trailing off, so not really an interruption. "Oh I want to." He gives her a once over for emphasis before continuing, "So, just to be clear you just want to keep it casual, a friends with benefits arrangement?"

And he seems intrigued, clearly, this was the right thing to do, everything loosens and she almost sighs with relief. "Yeah, I think that's best."

An expression she can't read crosses his face for a second. He answers in a weird tone that has her anxiety flaring until she processes his words, "Whatever you want Regina."

She doesn't try to figure it out because the weight has been lifted off of her chest, she knows what this is now. And because of that, now she's feeling a different type of anxiety, anticipation of what is to come. The first time had been incredible, and she can't wait to see if it was as good as she remembered. Robin looks at her curiously, and she leans into him, kissing him passionately, revelling when he returns the attention.

* * *

He wants her, god he wants her so badly. Though he wants all of her, this is good too, it's enough (it's not) but faced with the prospect of this or nothing, he will take this _any day_. If sex is all he can give her, he's going to give her his damn best, so that while she can be with others she won't want to. Can she even be with others? They hadn't discussed exclusivity, maybe she will want to be with just him, maybe he can woo her into a relationship. It's a dangerous thought process, but whatever. He ignores the implications in favour of pulling her onto his lap.

She grinds against him, and he's firming up, remembering the feel of her on top of him, taking him in deep. God that was incredible. She was, is incredible.

They kiss and kiss, her knees on either side of him, her centre lined up with his erection. She treats them both to slow grinds as their tongues tangle.

On a particularly satisfying one he breaks the kiss on a moan, then kisses down her cheek to her jawline, dotting kisses along the underside. She likes this, he remembers, he's replayed that night over and over, memorized every little thing she'd liked. She tips her head back, giving him more access as her one hand settles on the back of his head. He nips the underside of her chin and she hisses, pain or pleasure he's not sure, so he starts to pull away, but that hand urges him back.

"Good," she pants, so he does it again, and again. He would stay here forever but he's one or two nips away from a making a mark, so he continues his trail along her jawline. She whimpers as he moves away, but then sighs as he approaches her ear.

He remembers vividly how much this lit her up, so he takes her earlobe between his lips, gives it a little suck, and she cries out, urging him on as she plants her other hand on his shoulder for balance, and resumes grinding on him.

He bites it gently and the noise she lets out is heavenly, so erotic it sends a shock all the way down his cock. He does it again, and holy hell she makes that noise again, and fuck it's hot. He drops his eyes for a second, which makes it so he's staring at her heaving cleavage, and that is not helping. She's a walking aphrodisiac, everything about her utterly seductive.

He needs to go there next, lick down that deep V in her red top. But first he kisses her again, which she returns eagerly, it's pent up, lustful, and god, he cannot wait to be inside her.

He kisses down her neck and she _Mmm_ s when she realizes his intent, gasping when he licks down the V.

Her hand moves from his shoulder, tugging at her sweater. He moves his mouth and she pulls it off, revealing more of that sensual cleavage, and a sexy as hell red lace bra. He groans because god is she ever gorgeous. He needs her, she's turning him into an over eager teenager, and he needs her off of his lap, needs a break from the delicious grinding friction before he embarrasses himself.

He slides his hands to her ass, gripping her jeans—soft and stretchy so maybe not jeans— and hoists her up as he stands. She almost slips, but her legs wrap around him, her hands threading around his neck.

They kiss as he takes them out of the living room. She barely weighs anything in arms. He presses her against the wall to kiss her more fiercely for a moment, then carries her the rest of the way to his room.

He shuts the door behind them on instinct though there's no real reason, it's just them. He sets her down right there and pins her to the door. He grabs her arms from around his neck, holding them up by her sides, testing her reaction. He likes to be in control, likes to have a woman totally at his mercy, but he doesn't need it, would never push it if it wasn't her thing. Regina follows his lead willingly, offers absolutely no resistance, swallowing lightly, then biting that bottom lip, and looking up at him with sultry eyes.

God, she's sexy, especially like this. He claims her mouth again, fiercely, and she _loves_ it. He's a bit rougher as he trails down her jaw to her chest, and she lights up, if the heaving of her chest and choked low moans are any indication.

He pushes aside her bra, and takes a nipple in his mouth, and she arches and gasps, her hands pushing against his grip.

"Fuck," she breathes when he does it again, and he looks up at her, smirking. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes dark and wanting, watching him.

She hasn't made any move to take her hands back, and it's hot.

He presses a kiss to her cleavage then looks back up asking her, "You like this?"

He already knows the answer but he wants her to say it and she doesn't disappoint. "God _yes._ "

"You like being at my mercy?"

She nods frantically, then moans when he pushes her bra aside with his mouth and latches onto her other nipple. He sucks and sucks, then pulls away slowly, letting her pop from between his lips. He frees her hands so he can slide down her jeans, kneeling as he does.

She looks down at him, biting her lip and moaning in encouragement when he kisses up her thighs.

She's in a red lace thong, it matches her bra, and she looks damn good in it, he's almost tempted to leave it, but the thong needs to go too. He slides it down her legs and groans at how wet it is.

He slides his finger up to feel her, and god is she ever soaked. He slides it into her with no resistance, and _fuck_.

Her thighs twitch as he kisses up them, carefully thrusting that one finger up and forward, testing for that spot. He knows as soon as he's got it by the way she gasps, "Oh fuck," and her hips buck.

He uses his free hand to steady her, and kisses up closer and closer to paradise. He can't wait to taste her again, might be more impatient than her about it. He reaches the crease of her thigh and laves his tongue into it—she shakes and moans, her fingers coming to rest in his hair. He lavishes his attentions on her lips, keeping that finger steadily thumping that spot inside her and her hand pulls at his hair—fuck that's hot—when he gives her the softest of licks across her clit.

He was going to draw this out, but she is so so wet, and he can't resist sliding another finger in, a change she relishes, gasping ' _God yes_.'

He presses a soft kiss to her clit, and she lets out this heady moan that goes right to his cock. Fuck he was going to tease her more, but he _needs_ to hear that again.

That hand that's in his hair is pushing him into her and fuck it, she's riled enough. He licks at her and her thighs tremble as she gasps for him not to stop. And he's not, his tongue is working over her more firmly. She's getting tighter and tighter around his fingers, her cries growing sharper. He sucks her clit between his lips, rubbing his tongue over her and she moans, ' _Oh fuck'_ , and, ' _g-god like that_.' He does it again, and again, as she climbs higher and higher. It's not more than thirty seconds before she comes with a relieved cry, clenching around his fingers and sagging against the door.

When he feels her start to settle he stands. He scoops her into his arms again, and turning them, he throws her onto the bed (his is a mattress on a boxspring that's on the floor, so it's farther down than most). She giggles as she lands, then pops her bra off while he discards his too tight pants.

He climbs onto the bed, and her hands grab for his shirt, pulling it off and throwing it onto the floor, before she kisses him soundly, pulling him closer into her, more on top of her. God, she's a marvel, and he cannot wait to be inside her again.

Her hands push at his boxers, and he takes a second to pull them off. Her hand strokes over him and he groans, his eyes rolling back a bit at the pressure after so long of nothing.

His lips meet hers again as her strokes get more deliberate. She kisses down his neck and he moans at a bite coupled with a rub over his head.

He's done waiting, he needs her. He moves so he's lined up with her, about to sink into that hot, wet heat when she breathes, "Wait."

He looks at her, trying to hide his disappointment and she says, "Condom," and right, shit, he's an idiot. He was with Marian for so long, and they hadn't used them so he's forgotten his sex etiquette. He apologizes, then freezes when he realizes he doesn't have one.

Shit, shit, he's a total idiot, they are free at school for god's sake, shitty ones, but sex with a bad condom is better than no sex because you don't have one.

He's forced to admit, "I don't, um, I'm sorry love, didn't think." He tries not to sound too hopeful when he adds, "I could pull out."

She shakes her head, but she's smiling. "You are lucky I'm prepared," she tells him as she sits up. "Let me go grab my purse."

And oh thank god, because he might die if he doesn't get the chance to fuck her tonight, when she's here ready and willing, after weeks of reliving their night together.

He's sitting up, back against the wall when she gets back not two minutes later, with his saviour in her hand. She climbs on top of him, kisses him and then opens the packet, stroking him a couple of times (unnecessarily) and sliding it on him. It's so reminiscent of that first time he smiles, then groans heavily as she sinks down onto him; she's tight and it's good, he can feel how hot and wet she is through the latex. He longs to really feel her, but this is good, this is oh—

She starts slow but soon she's rocking against him in earnest, his hands on her tits, rolling her pebbled nipples as she urges him on.

She's riding him hard and fast, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. She gasps when his one hand leaves her tit to grab at her ass. She clenches around him and he groans, she'd liked that. He grabs harder and she moans which gives him an idea.

He pulls his hand back and whacks her ass firmly, and she cries out, but not in pain, then urges him to do it again.

He loves that she likes it a bit rougher, he pinches at her nipple on his next smack and she jerks, breath whooshing out.

"Oh fuck Robin I— _Mmm_ —God so close."

Fuck that's hot. "What do you need babe?"

She slides his hand from her breast down. He takes the hint, rubbing firmly over her clit, which makes her hips stutter as she moans. She takes him even faster and he rubs harder, then she's coming apart for him and it is glorious. She gets even tighter around him, then she's crying out as orgasm swamps her, head thrown back, her rhythm faltering. He plants his feet and thrusts up into her to compensate, which has her crying out even louder.

Fuck it's good, and god he's close, those spasms around his cock, and hot as hell sounds she's making, driving his arousal up and up.

God she feels so good, she pulls at his hand and he takes it away. She's still spasming around him as she comes down. She lets out a long sigh, and resumes her earlier rhythm, his balls tighten, everything going taunt as she pushes him closer and closer to the edge.

"God you feel good," she breathes. He nearly loses it entirely when she finishes with, "You make me feel so full."

He groans, biting down hard, she can't say things like that (she needs to always talk like that).

She claims his lips again, and he responds sloppily. He's right there, she feels, oh god, he can't hang on. He breaks the kiss to cry out as his cock twitches and everything releases in a way that leaves him feeling utterly satisfied.

He starts to soften inside her and she slides off of him, laying down beside him. She breathes, "God that was good," and he nods his agreement as he stands up to dispose of the condom.

He wonders if she's going to leave, or if she will stay for a while. She hasn't moved, so he thinks she will stay, knows she won't spend the night, but seems content to stay and bask in the afterglow, if just for a minute.

She ends up tucked into his arm, a blanket over their naked bodies as they chat about classes, classmates and weekend plans. After about a half an hour she sighs, then rises out of the bed. She begins gathering her strewn clothes and redressing. He throws on his boxers and a pair of sweats, then follows her out into the living room where her shirt had been discarded.

He offers her another glass of wine, doesn't want her to go just yet, but she offers him an apologetic smile as she grabs for her purse. She puts on her coat and boots, assures him she can make it to the elevator on her own and turns to leave. He grabs for her arm, and she stiffens as he kisses her goodbye, but slowly melts into the kiss. Then she's out the door and down the hall with a wave, leaving him with a stupid lovesick smile on his face that has no business being there.


	3. January II

**A couple of law terms for you: CANs - Case Annotated Notes, basically, exam notes but law school has to have its own term lol  
Crim - just a short form for criminal law class  
Torts - Another one of their classes  
Factum - One form of a written argument  
LRW - short for Legal Research and Writing another class (and the one they have to do the factum for lol)**

* * *

She's doing her contracts readings when she aimlessly checks her phone, and sees a post in the 1L Facebook group. Section two criminal grades are up on their online portal OnQ. Her heart stutters, she's fucking nervous, which is silly because she's already done everything she can, nothing is going to change the grade now. Still, her fingers shake as she signs onto her account. It takes her a second to find the grades section of the portal and then her stomach lurches.

51/100

51%

She passed, but barely, and oh fuck, oh fuck. She actually thought she did well. Oh god, what if all of her exams are like this. Her mother is going to fucking kill her, she will never get a job and shit, shit.

She wants to cry, she studied so hard. How did this happen? She's biting back tears as she grabs her phone to message Mal. She has the chat open, but she can't write it, can't bear to admit how she had done, can't bring herself to write down her horrifying reality, to voice what an utter failure she is. What if Mal aced it? She probably did, and that will only make Regina feel even worse, and of course, Mal will try to downplay it to make her feel better. She won't make her friends feel guilty about how well they did by sharing how shitty she did.

Fifty-fucking-one, probably the worst grade on the whole exam. She lets out a shaky breath, she just feels so damn defeated. She really thought she was getting it, at least enough to be average (which of course isn't good enough) but no, it turns out she's a total moron, the dumbest person in the class, probably at the school. Fuck, she has to get her shit together.

The tears are welling because she is so disappointed in herself, she could have worked harder; she took breaks, she saw her friends because she really thought she would do okay. She's one of the few people who always comes to class prepared. She makes all of her notes from scratch for god's sake, no CANs for Regina Mills. She handwrites her class notes, and types them up after because studies have shown it helps you retain better. But maybe that was stupid, maybe all the time she spent typing up her notes should have been spent reading and rereading the material. Except that she knew the material, she did, she was confident of that—but obviously, she was wrong and she didn't, which is even worse because of how off track was she in her other classes too.

The exam was a time crunch, everyone she had talked to about it agreed. She spent way too long on the hypothetical and barely any time on her essay. She can admit that her essay was shit, but most people felt the same way, though obviously their essays weren't as quite as shitty as hers.

She buries her face in her hands and allows herself one sniffle. Then a second, and a third, but that's it because if she really starts crying she won't stop, and she doesn't have time for a meltdown. She stands up and shakes it off, feeling like garbage and tries to pep talk herself. It was only worth 25% of her grade. She can still get an A right? She grabs her phone does the math, and okay if she gets an 89 (which is doubtful because she's so shitty at criminal law) she can end with an 80. It's not completely over. At least it's not one of the classes where the exam was worth 40%. The important this is she can recover from this.

But what if she doesn't— _no_ , she can't think like that, can't go down that dangerous path. She has classes to prepare for. Obviously crim needs to be the priority. She's already made her notes on today's readings, but she opens the textbook, she has time to reread all the cases.

By the time she needs to get ready to leave for class her head hurts, and she's frustrated as hell because she still doesn't get the point of the readings, and _R v. Wholesale Travel Group Inc_ still makes no fucking sense. Maybe her grade makes sense after all, she's clearly an idiot who doesn't understand Supreme Court case law.

She makes herself an Americano, throws it in a travel mug with a tiny splash of milk, so her teeth don't get stained. It's twenty five minutes until class and it's a seven minute walk. She checks the weather to answer how bundled up she should be and groans, -14C and it's supposed to snow later. She wraps herself in a big scarf, warm hat, thick gloves, thermal boots and then braves the cold.

By the time she gets to school, she's still cranky and freezing, a real winning combination. She makes her way to class but she's early, too early, so she has to wait outside, which only adds to her bad mood.

Kathryn takes one look at her and offers a sympathetic smile and whispers, "I've heard Belfrey's a tough marker, so we will see what she says in class."

And great, it's written all over her face how poorly she did so everyone will know—that's just what she needs. She puts a little more effort into pretending she's fine, and she thinks Kathryn buys it, but she can't be sure. When the class before them lets out they filter in and take their seats in the front. Mal's not here yet, but there's still nine minutes until the start of class, and she somehow always makes it just in time, never early, never late, but between one and four minutes before the class starts. That would stress Regina out, but it works for Mal, so who is she to judge?

Her nerves flare as soon as their professor walks in. Professor Victoria Belfry, smart, sharp and tough, extremely hard to please.

She doesn't bother with a greeting, never does, stands up in front of the podium, and then launches into the lecture. She hears the whispers before she sees Professor Belfry sigh and ask, "Yes, Ms. Lucas what is so urgent it cannot wait until I get through the facts of this case?"

She turns to see Ruby blush a little, but she holds her ground, "I was wondering about the midterm, the grades were posted today."

Professor Belfry arches her brow in a ' _so what?_ '

"Um, well, some of us were wondering if the grades were curved, and if not what the class average was."

"Fifty-three percent," wait seriously? Regina's chest loosens significantly. That means she didn't do nearly as horribly as she thought, what a relief. "I don't curve until the end. You all have some work to do, now back to _Beaver._ "

Unsurprisingly, that average is the subject of discussion over the mid-class break. Regina comes back from the bathroom and Kathryn, Mal and Zelena are with a group of guys, Robin, John, Arthur, Jefferson and Nottingham. She doesn't know what it is with guys and referring to each other by their last names but Jefferson and Nottingham both go by their last names and not their firsts. She hears Mal gearing up about how unfair that was, and how Professor Belfry should have curved them, or at least sent a warning with the grades. Regina nods as she slips in, that would have saved her _most_ of her panic. She's still below average, but it's not that bad, much more salvageable.

She ends up sliding in beside Robin. As John and Mal break off into a side conversation he asks her, "You okay?"

She nods slightly, cursing herself for being so obvious about what a mess she was over it. "Yeah, that was just, um, not fun," she laughs awkwardly, "I mean I'm not happy, but I'm sure as hell not as unhappy."

"Yeah adding that twenty-two percent makes everything much better. I bet she does it on purpose, she was the first to release her grades, go for the shock value, scare the shit out of us."

She doesn't think… okay actually that's probably accurate. It's terrible, but Professor Belfry doesn't hold any punches and they were all warned she was tough. "You know I didn't think about that but you are probably right."

"We'll have to warn the new students next year, save them the unnecessary stress of that."

That's sweet of him, to be thinking about how to avoid this in the future. She wonders how different her day would have been if she had known that, but they can't do anything to change that.

People are starting to filter back in, so she follows, giving Robin a quick, ' _see you after_.' Then she curses herself because why did she say that? They don't have plans, she doesn't need him to hang around and say goodbye, if she sees him, cool, if she doesn't, whatever. She is not good at this stuff, but she can't let it distract her. She fiddles with her pen and then class starts again, and she takes her mind off of Robin.

* * *

 _Hey, would you want to come over later?_

He smiles at the text from Regina, because of course he would. She had worn this low cut shirt on Thursday that had brought his mind straight into the gutter. It's a good thing she sits in the front which meant he didn't have a good view of her because otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to focus all class.

He chatted her up after torts class, asking her a question about the class just so he could get another view of that shirt, which was even better closer up. He would have invited her over right then, but he and John had set aside that time to work on their factum, and he didn't think John would appreciate him bailing for sex (though he was sorely tempted).

Merida's coming tonight though, driving down after she's done work shortly, so they have the night—and for John the rest of the weekend—off.

He texts her back asking when and she proposes eight, which he accepts, smiling down at his phone. He can't wait, he should do some work in the interim, use the prospect of sex to incentivize himself, but he's rather lazy today so thinks he'll just take the night off completely, recharge and then do work tomorrow. He'll take his lazy Saturday to fuel a productive Sunday.

"Message from your lady friend?" John teases from beside him, starling him a bit.

"Jesus, you scared me. What makes you say that?" He asks as John crosses over and plops himself down in the chair across from where Robin is sitting on the couch.

"Well what other reason do you have for smiling down at your phone like an idiot?"

He glares over at John who just laughs. "I could have won the lottery, you don't know."

John snorts. "Won the lottery, really, _that's_ what you came up with, they don't email you, you git."

"Oh shut it," he teases and then confirms, "Yeah it was Regina, I'm going over there later."

"See? That wasn't so hard to admit now was it?"

He just shakes his head, John is too much sometimes. They've been friends since they were kids, when John befriended the new kid with the weird accent in grade two. John is like his brother, when his parents decided to go back to the U.K., in his senior year of high school and he didn't want to go, he stayed with John at his parents' house. They went to different universities, John in Guelph, him in Hamilton so they were easily able to keep in touch. They made an effort to see each other in person at least once every two months.

When they both decided to apply to law school—which frankly floored him coming from John, as he had never shown any interest in the law before—they had joked about going to the same school and living together, which then became their reality.

"So…" John starts while stretching, "What's going with you two anyway? Is it serious?"

Robin huffs a laugh, because isn't that the question? He had wanted to date her, which granted, maybe having sex with her that first night didn't exactly set them up for that, but he thought she wanted to date him too. But all she wants is a warm body, and who is he to refuse her company in whatever fashion he can? The problem is, John knows he likes her, and will call him out on what a bad idea this is. Still, he won't lie to his friend, even though he knows he won't like this conversation.

"It's just sex, not serious."

John gives him a look, and oh here it comes, he's well acquainted with _that_ look. "And _you_ are okay with that?"

He sighs, "I mean I'd prefer a relationship but I'll take what I can get."

John shakes his head, "You are setting yourself up for trouble mate."

Be that as it may, "Are you saying in my position you would turn that down?"

John laughs, "Oh hell no, I'm just saying be careful man, I don't want to see you get your heart broken."

"I'm not in love with her, so that shouldn't be an issue."

John gives him another look, "Yeah, but you want more, and unless you can get that in check it's going to get messy." Robin nods because that's true and nothing he hasn't thought about as John continues, "Are you exclusive?"

He bristles even though it's a fair question. It's just that he's not exactly sure, and he can't decide whether he wants to know or not. He really only wants to know if the answer is yes, he'd rather not think about her with other people, it would make him jealous even though he has no right to be. "I… I don't know."

"You need to find out because if you aren't, well then we have the solution to your problem."

He's not following. "What do you mean?"

"If you sleep with other people it's not going to feel like a relationship and that should help keep it real for you, so your feelings don't… grow."

While that makes sense, he has no interest in sleeping with anyone else, but then maybe that's why he should. He answers with a shrug and a sigh, "I don't know maybe you're right but it is what it is and I'll figure it out."

John nods and then blindsides him, "So how is the sex?"

"I…" he probably should tell him it's none of his business out of respect for Regina, but this is what they do. "It's… great, really really great, she's, uh, great."

John raises a brow, "Didn't think Mills would have it in her, I mean she's hot, anyone can see that but… well anyway, _nice_."

He's had about enough of that so he asks, "And how are things with Merida?"

John sighs heavily, "I don't know man, everything I do seems to piss her off, it's like I can't win. But then we get together and it's easy to forget all of that, at least until we're done and fighting again."

Robin knows exactly what he means (unfortunately); their apartment has thin walls, and John and Merida seem to make it their mission to be as loud as possible both in bed, and in their increasingly frequent screaming matches. He bought noise cancelling headphones in advance of living together because John had a girlfriend, and he's never been happier with a purchase.

"That seems… tough."

John nods. "It's just a rough patch."

Is it though? "That has to be hard with school. Must get distracting right?"

John shrugs, "Eh, not really. We don't talk much during the week—you know me, not a big texter. It used to annoy her but I think she's come around, it's easier this way. Because when we talk a lot we end up in a stupid fight, and it's just not worth the effort. "

"So you just don't talk?"

"Well no, we talk, plan our visits, talk about our days but…. nothing serious, nothing that could cause a fight."

That just sounds off to Robin but he's already given John his two cents about it (more than once) and he never takes his advice. Still, he can't help but ask, "Are you happy? Because it doesn't seem like you are?"

"I… I don't know anymore man. I love her, I do so, yeah I don't know."

He can tell John would rather not talk about it so he changes the subject before he says something he regrets, "You wanna grab beer and pizza, and watch a movie while we wait?"

"Yeah, I really do."

By the time they get back home and start eating their respective relationship troubles are far from their minds.

* * *

Job applications are the absolute worst, that's what Regina has decided from her afternoon of researching firms and writing tailored cover letters. She feels like they all read the same, that she doesn't have a good reason why Blakes over Aird & Berlis over Faskens because she just wants a job, but that's showing, and it can't. She has five more applications to do, five more places to research, that thought alone is making her head hurt.

She's not going to finish tonight, there's no way, which means she's going to be behind schedule, great. She's already fucking stressed because she has to overcome her shitty ass grades. Of course, she only has the two, that 51%—which translates to a 73% and you bet that's what she's putting on her applications—and a 76%, grades which are not going to get her anywhere. There were fifty-five jobs last year which might sound like a lot but is nothing in comparison to the at least sixteen-hundred students applying. She hears her mother in her head sighing over the fact that Regina didn't get into the top school, how it was really going to hurt her future prospects, and it pains her to have to admit her mother was right. But she hadn't gotten into U of T, the top school, so now all she can do is be one of the top three candidates from their class. She has clinic and law journal going for her, but it's not enough, she is not enough. That's probably why she didn't get into U of T.

She's never going to get one of these jobs, and she will never hear the end of how much of a failure she is from her mother. Fuck, she needs to buckle down and push through even though her brain is screaming for a break. Breaks are for people who do well, so not her.

She needs to cancel with Robin, there's no way she's going to finish this on time. She grabs her phone to cancel, and shit, it is 7:50, there's no way he's not on his way. Where did the time go? Fuck, she's even more behind than she thought. Her stomach growls, which reminds her she hasn't eaten either. She was planning on changing and fixing her makeup, not being in her sweatshirt and yoga pants with her hair up in a makeshift bun, but she lost track of time.

She sighs and gets up from her computer and goes into the bathroom to check out just how terrible she looks. The way she put her hair up is hideous, so she shakes it out; it doesn't look great but it's not awful. She ties it up in an actual ponytail and that's better, much better, if a bit casual. She rushes to her room and changes her shirt, puts back on a bra and then debates changing her pants. They make her ass look good, and she's really running out of time so she leaves them. She's making her way downstairs when her phone vibrates with a _Here_ message from Robin Locksley (why didn't he knock?). He does actually knock when she reaches the door. If she startles him at all by opening it right away he doesn't show it.

"Hi," he greets, pressing a kiss to her cheek and she smiles, hoping it reaches her eyes as she beckons him in.

She's stressed, doesn't want to have to play nice and normal, but she can't get out of it now. As he hangs his coat she gets an idea.

"Wine?" she asks, remembering how he offered it to her the last time they hung out, hoping that it will take the edge off.

"Yeah, that would be great."

She leaves him in the entry—he's been here before, and it's not like her place is hard to navigate given that the living area is all open concept—to go grab wine glasses and the wine from the kitchen.

She opens a Riesling and is pouring as she hears him entering the kitchen. He slides up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and plants a kiss to the side of her neck. And that's… nice, if a bit too domestic for their arrangement.

She grabs the glasses and turns, sliding out of his embrace, gesturing toward the living room, "Let's sit in there."

He takes his glass and settles on the sofa right beside her, wrapping his left arm around her shoulder. He's… cuddly. Has he always been this cuddly, she wonders? What does that mean? She's over analyzing again, and that needs to stop.

She settles on asking him about his day and trying to lose herself in his story about watching a movie with John. She feels a pang of envy that he spent his Saturday relaxing.

They chat mindlessly as they sip their glasses. It's flirty as always, but it's a bit half-assed from her. She can't stop her mind from flitting back to how far behind she is and how she should not be taking this break. She starts to mentally rejig her Sunday work plan, and misses something Robin asks her. God, she's such a jerk for not being present with him when _she_ invited him over.

He answers her ' _Huh',_ with a, "What's wrong?"

She tries to tell him it's nothing, but he gives her this look that makes it clear he's not buying it, so she changes course, and sighs, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you sure about that?"

She narrows her eyes, "Why would you ask that?

He muses, "Perhaps deep down you really do want to talk about it."

She's about to give him a biting retort, but maybe she actually does, maybe it will help.

So she unloads, starting with the job applications, accidentally spilling her shitty grades in her little tirade. She hears the words as they are coming out her mouth and is instantly embarrassed. She cuts off rather awkwardly, and Robin ends up sharing his grades. She learns that she did better than Robin in LRW but that he killed it in crim. She's only mildly jealous of his 67 which is really a 90 because he's offered to help her and she would be stupid to turn that down.

It's helping, talking to Robin, it's strangely reassuring admitting her weaknesses. She tends to keep everything in. She doesn't like exposing her vulnerabilities, it just gives people fuel to use against you, a way to kick you when you are down. For some reason though, with Robin, it doesn't feel like exposing a weakness.

So she goes on, telling him about how afraid she is to fall behind and never catch up, then apologizes for her earlier shitty behaviour.

He, of course, accepts her apology like it was nothing, but surprises her when he confides, "I have the same fear. I skipped some readings last semester because I just couldn't catch up, and I decided it was better to just move on and rely on my class notes and CANs for those cases. Not for crim, so we will see how much that screwed me, but it didn't seem too too bad. There's so much more material this semester though, and I'm a slow reader, so it feels like I'll never get through it all sometimes."

It's nice to not feel so alone, and unlike her other friends, she doesn't feel any sort of competition even though Robin's doing better than her in a class. Maybe it's because they don't want the same things, he's made it clear he doesn't want to work in big law, but she doesn't think that's it, he just has this way of making her feel comfortable, and it's dangerous given their arrangement.

Even though she knows that she shouldn't, she can't help but cuddle up closer as she tells him, "You will though, I don't know about you but I like to have a plan, it makes it more manageable or at least less overwhelming. My plan _was_ to finish applications tonight but that's not happening so I'll just adjust tomorrow."

He looks at her and asks seriously, "Do you want me to go?"

And no, she really doesn't, a half an hour ago she would have taken that in a heartbeat, but she feels better now and she needs a break. She also needs some food, her hunger was somewhat forgotten, but she's a bit warm now just from that one glass of wine, and that's not good.

"No, I want you to stay but, um, I still need to eat dinner," she pauses then asks, "Do you want anything?"

"John and I had pizza." Right, he told her that when she was being a distracted asshole. She'll make something quick and easy, that she can throw in the oven and get back to chatting (and actually pay attention this time, be the kind of good friend he has been for her). They've both finished their glasses of wine so she should do something about that too, can't be both a bad friend and a bad host.

"Why don't you pick something for us on Netflix, while I get us a refill and find myself something to eat."

He smiles, "Sounds good."

She passes him the tv remote, then grabs their glasses, making her way into the kitchen. She sets them down as she opens the freezer to slim pickings, but there is a frozen thin crust spinach pizza, which is awfully appealing after hearing Robin talk about his pizza. She sets the oven to preheat, pours wine into their glasses, and makes her way back into the living room.

"What did you pick?" She asks as she sets the glasses back dow. She then settles back into his embrace.

"I wasn't sure what you would want to watch, but there's Pulp Fiction, and if you are going in and out might make sense to stick with something you already know the plot of."

She laughs, that's presumptuous, "Well that would be true, if I had seen it before."

He looks at her wide-eyed, "You've _never seen_ Pulp Fiction?"

She snickers at how shocked he is, "Nope."

He shakes his head in amazement, "You cannot be serious, it's a classic, well, now I know for sure what we will be watching because you _have_ to see it."

She rolls her eyes, but acquiesces, "Well if I must."

He insists, "You must."

He pauses it when the oven beeps that it's preheated, and again when her pizza is ready. Though he said he wasn't hungry he takes a piece when she offers it, and takes a second at her insistence. If she was alone she might have aimlessly eaten the whole thing, but she does need all those calories.

Initially when she suggested they put something on she didn't think they'd get through it, thought whatever it was would get abandoned in favour of hot kisses and wandering hands once she'd eaten, but Robin had insisted she _had to see_ this movie, and she got sucked in.

As the credits roll Robin asks her, "So?"

"I… whoa, that was messed up, but really great, I don't know what I was expecting… but not that."

He smirks, "I told you so."

"That dance scene was, um… interesting."

He chuckles and she adds, "But oh my god when they stabbed Mia with that needle, holy shit, ugh," she shudders at the memory and shakes it off. "I was confused at points but yeah that was a _damn good_ movie."

"I knew you'd like it," he says, still sporting that smirk. He reaches for his glass, finishing the rest, sets it back down, and turns his body toward her. He's smiling, his tongue peeking out under his top teeth in a way she finds oddly arousing.

It's not as though it hasn't been clear where this night was going, but she feels a little awkward thinking about getting him naked after the intensity of the movie.

But she is, and the way he seems to be undressing her with his eyes suggests that he is too. So she pulls him in for a kiss, sighing as he deepens it, kissing her hard. Their kisses are passionate and full of promise. She finds herself fisting his shirt, pulling him closer, so that he ends up on top of her on the couch. She twists to get closer, loses her balance a little and he shifts, so she can move her legs through his, so she's sitting across the couch. They kiss and kiss, until he pulls off her shirt, moaning when her cleavage is exposed. She figures turnabout is fair play, and removes his shirt. Then his lips are on her neck, and she's arching and falling back to lay down, pulling him to lay on top of her.

She can feel him hard against her hip and it thrills her, makes her lower belly grow warm. It gets even warmer when his lips come to her ear as he rasps, "God I've been dreaming about these tits ever since Thursday. I didn't know it was possible to look so damn sexy in a t-shirt and sweater, but my god it's a good thing I couldn't see it during class or I would have been utterly distracted."

She chuckles, then shivers when he plants a sucking kiss behind her ear with a, "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Regina?"

He grinds his erection against her centre then, and god, that's hot. She can feel how much he needs her, could sense it from his words and tone. He grabs her face for another kiss and she sees hot lust in his eyes before she closes hers.

They make out heatedly and her outside leg jaunts out, her foot wrapping around his thigh to push him closer to her. He gives her another grind, and yes, it's _good._

Then he shifts down and devours her chest, there's no other word for it. He blazes kisses from her neck to her bra line and across, while his hands tug at the clasp of her bra. She arches to give him better access, and as soon as it's off his mouth is sucking firmly at her right nipple, and she's gasping.

She's not all that sensitive here, but that firmer touch he uses lights her right up. As he switches breasts, his hand comes to toy at her other nipple, and she chokes on a moan.

She's wet, so wet, wants him, right here, right now.

He sucks harder, and she pants an, "Ahh," that only spurs him on. God is he ever good at this, he pays close attention, is observant and takes even the subtlest of directions.

She rocks her hips reflexively and then his other hand is sliding down to rub over her clit. It feels _so good,_ even dulled by the layers of clothing between them. She could come like this she realizes with a start, but that's not what she wants.

She tugs at his pants, commands, "Off," then cuts off a whimper when his mouth and hands leave her to do what she asked.

He slides his pants off, then kisses her, his hands pulling at her pants. She pushes up her hips to assist, and his hands grope over her bare ass before he tugs them off too.

He discards them on the floor and pauses, then moves off of the sofa much to her confusion.

"What are you—" she asks, and stops as he kneels, settling sitting down on the floor beside the sofa, pulling her hips toward him.

"This," he says with a wink, then presses a soft kiss to her clit over the fabric of her thong. "Unless there are any objections."

She shakes her head because why would she ever turn down his mouth? He slides her thong off, and her feet to come to rest on the coffee table behind him.

He plants kisses up her inner thighs that only serve to rile her up even more.

He slips his fingers in first, one then two, feeling around until he hits her g-spot, heat and pleasure pulsing out as she gasps, "There," in a breathy tone. He thumps it over and over, as she climbs up and up. It's not enough, she needs something on her clit to come, but it feels so damn good, has her thigh twitching, belly clenching.

When his mouth descends to her lower belly she moans in anticipation. Her pulse rises with every kiss closer and closer to where she is aching for attention.

She cries out when his lips cover her clit, those fingers still hitting her g-spot perfectly. He sucks her clit and she _moans_. This is just what she needs. She feels herself getting close, so close, as she grows louder and louder. He sucks her more firmly, his tongue rubbing while he does so, and she's gone, she feels everything go tight, before releasing in a hot wave that consumes her.

She jerks when it becomes too much, and he eases off, removing his mouth and slipping his fingers from her.

"That was _so hot_ ," he sighs, and god, she will never tire of how much he loves getting her off.

He stands up and she sits upright again, pulling him down for another kiss. She moans at the taste of her on his tongue, and reaches her hand down to find him hard and ready. She wants him inside her, badly, cannot wait to feel his cock stretching her. By the looks of him, with his ragged breathing, eyes nearly rolling back from her strokes she doesn't think he's faring any better.

He kisses her hotly, and moves his knees on either side of her legs. She can feel him hard against her belly, and god does she ever want him right now. She's going to fuck him on her couch, and it sends a little thrill through her, she doesn't have the patience to make it through the trip upstairs to her bedroom.

"Turn around lovely," he whispers between kisses, and oh god, oh god, he wants to take her from behind, where he can hit her just right, and rub at her clit. Her breath deepens in anticipation as she flips, bracing her hands against the arm of the couch.

He plants a kiss to her butt then bites it, which makes her let out a little surprised squeak.

"Bad?" he asks concerned.

"No, just unexpected."

"God your ass is a marvel," he sighs. She turns, craning her neck, to see him staring in wonder.

He coasts his hands over her butt, gripping firmly, making her moan.

"Condom?" he asks and shit, they are upstairs. It's really not that far, but the thought of having to wait another minute to have him inside her is torture. She's too sex-addled for that trip, wants him too much, so tells him, "Just pull out."

He groans, grabs her hips tightly and then thrusts inside her. God, this was a bad idea because he feels _good_ like this, nothing between them.

He starts to go faster, and deeper, it feels amazing, has her encouraging him to go even faster, to fuck her even deeper, and he does. Heat builds deep in her belly, and she's clenching on him, getting tighter and wetter as he thrusts into her again and again, spilling compliments about her ass, and how good she feels, how hot she is. She eats his words up because they are doing things to her, making her even hotter for him.

He leans down to kiss her neck, and something about it shifts the angle so it's better. She cries out and gasps, "There," as everything grows taut. He keeps it up, and she is so close, right on edge, it feels fucking amazing. Her orgasm builds and builds, but doesn't spill over, not until his hand snakes around and rubs over her clit in tight spirals. Her hips buck and everything goes hot as she spasms around him and cries out half-words as she comes _hard_ , pleasure surging through her veins.

She's only just come down when he pulls out of her and she feels hot wet spurts hit her lower back as he moans.

She lowers her face onto the arm of the couch as she sighs and regains control of her breathing. God that was _good_.

Her heart has finally started to slow when she feels something against her lower back. She looks over her shoulder and he's cleaning her with a Kleenex. She smiles, and when he's done she turns and kisses him softly, enjoying the afterglow.


	4. January III

**A couple of law terms for you: DAP - the Direct Accountability Program, the Canadian equivalent of being punished for a crime with community service  
** **Appellant's - the party who appeals a judgment, in this context, it's just the side that Robin and John represent.**

* * *

God bless Regina Mills, that's all Robin can think as he marvels over the fact that he actually got an interview at the Prison Law Clinic. Her feedback on his letters had been invaluable, urging him to ditch his first letter and stick with his story—as modified by her so that it was professional and marketable. She'd even looked it over once more after he'd implemented her suggestions, and rewritten the one section that needed work. He actually felt good sending it in, like he had a real shot, not totally confused as to whether it was even remotely okay.

And it paid off; he has an interview even with there being very few spots open second semester. He's all smiles as he calls to set a time on Wednesday for his interview, praying he won't screw it up.

He texts Regina a sincere thank you and lets her know he got the interview.

He gets back a: _That's great_ with the celebratory emoji.

Then a second message: _Are you nervous?_

 _Very much so_

 _Don't be :) it's more a formality than anything, at least that's what I've heard, but I'd be happy to go over what I remember being asked if that would help_

And it would, oh god would it ever.

 _Please, I have no idea what to expect_

He follows with: _If it isn't too much trouble that is_

He can practically hear her tone in her: _I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it_

 _You are a lifesaver!_

 _I don't know what your schedule is like, but I could be free now or after class if that's better_

He looks at the time and grimaces, it's noon, and he hasn't done much, hasn't even eaten lunch yet, but preparing for his interview is most important. He'll buy a sandwich and eat it in class, avoiding Belfry's glares if he has to. They are allowed to eat in class, but Belfry takes it as personally offensive when someone does, so it's easier to just not, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

 _I'll leave in a second, see you in 20_

He doesn't bother the check the weather, which he regrets when he steps outside and it's lightly raining—it's above freezing at least, but he almost wishes it was colder, so it would be snow, which would not get him wet.

The rain tapers off as he walks, so he's only damp when he gets to Regina's. He texts her when he's a couple of houses away, then knocks at the door upon arrival. She greets him almost instantly, takes one look at his appearance, and offers him a warm beverage.

He almost says no, doesn't want to put her out, but he catches himself yawning, and realizes he'd been so caught up in his excitement he hasn't had a coffee yet.

So they decide to do the mock interview at her kitchen table over coffees, a Latte for him and an Americano for her, just like that first night. It's damn good, makes him wish he had money for a fancy espresso machine, but oh well, maybe once he's actually a lawyer.

She tells him all about her interview first, how short it was, that it just seemed to be screening if she was genuinely interested and willing to do the work.

"It seemed like they just wanted to make sure you weren't doing it as a resume filler, you know? They stressed that it was a lot of work and that if you do it, that it's a commitment you can't quit—people are relying on you."

That makes him feel better. He knows people who only want to do it because they think it will help them get a job, and don't actually care about the clients or the work.

"That makes sense," He's itching to ask why she chose family law, but decides he should wait until after, lest they get off track and run out of time.

"Ready?" she asks, grabbing her mug and downing the last little bit.

He nods. She surprises him by standing up and offering her hand with a, "Pleased to meet you Mr. Locksley."

He plays along, shakes her hand with an, "And you Ms. Mills."

"So tell me, why the Prison Law Clinic?"

"Well, as you saw from my application, criminal law is what I want to do with my life. I did some stupid things as a teenager, I've been on the other side of the law, and I got lucky, I got DAP, I did my volunteer hours, and the Crown withdrew the charges. I wouldn't be here in law school if it weren't for that. I know people who weren't as lucky and I've seen what going to jail does to a person's prospects." He wonders if he's going on for too long, but if he is, he trusts she'll tell him at the end. "I have the privilege of this opportunity, and I want to give back."

"So say I buy that, why a legal aid clinic?"

"To be honest, I've been poor most of my life. I'm not in law school to make money I'm here to do work that's meaningful and worthwhile. I don't need to make millions or work at a top firm. I just want to help people."

Regina frowns but doesn't explain why and soldiers on, "And what experience do you have with our clientele?"

"I've been your clientele, the lawyer who got me into DAP was through legal aid."

"Okay, and do you have any questions for us?"

He shakes his head, "No I think I'm good."

Regina breaks her role then, "That was good, your first answer was the best. The second one was a bit casual. I wouldn't say that I don't need to make millions comment, this a volunteer position, you aren't getting paid at all." That makes sense, so he nods, "And then I'd expand more on that last answer, you've been in the client's shoes. That's a real asset, and one you should elaborate more on. Then ask them something if they ask you for questions, anything, workload, types of files student's get, what they wish students would understand going in, just something."

And okay, that's easy enough. "Thank you," he breathes. "Seriously I feel so much better," and he really does, his brewing nerves have died off a bit. While he's sure they will flare again, he at least knows what he wants to say isn't totally moronic.

She gives him this look, which prompts him to ask, "What?"

She looks down as she admits, "I don't actually know what DAP is…"

He laughs, because right why would you unless you work in the area or have experienced it? "It's a diversion program. It's an acronym for Direct Accountability Program, it's for first time and minor offenders to keep them out of the system. You have to take responsibility for your crime, but it's not a guilty plea. You get a caseworker and have to do some things; for me it was just volunteer hours. Once you complete it your caseworker signs off and the Crown withdraws the charges."

"Oh that's cool," she hesitates for a second, "So, um, what did you do?"

And right, that hasn't come up yet. "I stole a tablet, but it's not the only thing I stole, I just didn't get caught beforehand. I was overconfident taking it, and didn't account for the cameras that got a perfect shot of my face. It was really dumb. I went in there all the time using my um… proceeds to buy video games, so it wasn't hard for them to figure out who I was.

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen and stupid, my dad got laid off in 2009, he worked at a plant that closed, and he had recall rights, but he never did get recalled. When his unemployment ran out, he started working at a minimum wage job, so we could afford the mortgage. I wanted stupid things like an Xbox and video games, and instead of getting a job I… did that."

Her face twists in confusion, "I thought your parents lived in the U.K."

He can see why. "They do, they moved back the next year when my grandfather died. He left them the house and there was an opportunity for my dad. I stayed here though, with John and his family, and I spend my summers there. I almost went to law school in the U.K. I got into University of Sussex for law, but my life is here. We moved to Canada when I was six, and I wanted to stay here, so when I got into an Ontario school, I turned it down."

She stands, placing her mug into the dishwasher (god how convenient, he wishes they had one of those, it would save him his constant bitching at John for not doing his dishes). "What's your plan for this summer then, go back to see them or…?"

He checks out her ass as she bends over (he is only human after all), then shrugs when she turns back. "If I don't get a job, I'll go home, but I'd love to summer at a clinic. What about you?"

She grimaces, "I'm hoping for a big law job, I know it's next to impossible, but it has to happen for someone, right? If not, somewhere where I can get some real-world experience."

He doesn't pay much attention because he has no interest in _those_ jobs, but people keep talking about them, and he's pretty sure the applications are due this week. "You finished with your applications?"

She sighs, "Yes, but, I'm hoping we get another grade before the deadline…" She finishes with a chuckle, "and that it's a good one this time."

It's as if John was listening to their conversation because right at that moment his phone lights up with a text: _Contracts grades are up and fuck me man_

He feels a pang of sympathy for John, but passes on the news to Regina (not that John did poorly, the other part). He gets his up first, a 68—not what he wanted but it could be worse. He's well aware contracts is not his strong suit. When he looks up at Regina, she's frozen, stunned. She passes him her phone with her voice shaking, "Am I reading this right?"

He can't tell what she's feeling, but he remembers how disappointed she was with crim, so he hopes this isn't another one of those. Then he looks at the number, and realizes she's a bloody genius.

He reads it aloud as she sits, still shocked, "Ninety-Seven. You Ms. Mills, are an absolute genius. How do you feel?"

She lets out an awkward little laugh, "I… I can't believe it, it doesn't feel real."

He laughs then, "Well it is, and I now know who to turn to when I have a problem in contracts, I'll just call up the Contracts Queen."

She blushes and snickers, "God, what if it's some kind of mistake, this can't be real."

He grabs for her hand squeezing it, "I've heard you answer questions in class, it's obvious to everyone, well, apparently everyone but you, that you are brilliant. This just proves it."

Her cheeks flush even more as a bright smile lights up her face. God, she's so beautiful he thinks, then remembers he's not supposed to think like that, he's supposed to be getting over his crush, not falling in deeper. But she is beautiful, stunning really, and he can still appreciate that without growing his crush. Right?

His stomach loudly gurgles, which breaks the moment, and he apologizes embarrassed.

"Shoot, I haven't had lunch either," she remarks, "I don't have much, but sandwiches?"

He shakes his head, he's not going to take her food, but she insists, and he's hungry so he gives in. It's a simple ham and cheese sandwich, but it fills his stomach. Then it's nearly time to leave for class, and she makes them both coffee, pouring them into travel mugs despite his protests, assuring him he can give it back to her whenever.

They walk to class together chatting idly, and he can't help but marvel over how easy it is, and because of how dangerous this arrangement is for his heart.

* * *

It's like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders. She sent in her applications first thing in the morning after one last typo check, and headed off to the longest day of class with a smile on her face. Even the confusion that was the property lesson about the rule in Shelley's case (god estates are confusing), the fact that she spent her lunch scanning Mal's applications for typos while Mal did the same for Kathryn, or the dry as always constitutional law lecture from Professor Gold couldn't get her down.

They are at the Rustic Spud because Mal had wanted a celebratory drink (or three) to go with dinner, so a pub was her suggestion. The food is fantastic, so Regina had readily agreed.

She's splitting a bottle of Shiraz with Kathryn, while Mal enjoys her second IPA. They were shop talking, class and applications, but Mal had rightfully asked for a moratorium on all that. They have lives outside of classes and applications (or at least Mal and Kathryn do) and while bitching about the work can be useful, it can also get boring.

They are saved from finding a new topic of conversation by their food arriving. Regina's mouth waters over her fish tacos as Mal digs into her Honolulu Heat pizza, a combination of flavours Regina will never be trying—jalapenos, prosciutto and pineapple just do not go together and _especially_ on pizza. Kathryn's grilled veggie wrap looks good, which makes Regina happy because Kathryn had lamented the lack of vegetarian options when they got the menus.

"Are you guys going to the game tomorrow?" Kathryn asks, and Regina's first thought is, _What game?_ But she's mid-bite, so she finishes it before she voices that thought.

It's Mal who answers, after finishing her beer, "The hockey game, the guys have been bugging us to come see them play, and all the proceeds go to charity."

"Are you guys going?" she asks as Mal flags their server for another beer.

Mal nods, and Kathryn replies, "Yeah, I've been wanting to see them play."

Mal laughs, "What she means is she's been wanting to have something to talk with Jefferson about."

Kathryn blushes as Regina raises her eyebrows. Jefferson, that's a new one, but then Kathryn's quest to get over David has seen her flit from guy to guy.

"Zelena's going too," Kathryn adds, which reminds Regina.

"Where is she anyway?"

Mal sighs, "Library. She said she couldn't take two week-nights off this week."

That makes some sense to Regina; she usually would feel the same way, but they'll be starting their factums next week, and so she's taking a break now, while she can. She's partners with Mal and Kathryn is with Zelena. She's glad she got Mal, because she doesn't know that she could stomach being Zelena's partner and she knows for a fact Zelena and Mal would probably kill each other.

"What time is the game?"

"Eight, then there's an after-party at Jefferson's place," Kathryn responds, and well, isn't that convenient for her?

"That's a little late isn't it?" both Mal and Kathryn give her ' _seriously?_ ' looks, "Not the game time, I'm not _that_ much of an old lady, I mean after, considering we have 9:30 class."

Mal looks at her seriously, "Regina, half of the class is hungover every Friday morning because all of the good events are on Thursday nights, live a little."

She chews her lip absently, "Mmm, we'll see, I'll probably go home to bed after."

"To bed bed or _to bed_ ," Kathryn giggles, "with a handsome boy."

She playfully shoves her, "Not like that—I need my sleep."

Mal rolls her eyes, "You and your sleep, this is why you miss all the good things."

She takes a sip of her wine as Kathryn asks, "But you'd give up sleep for that right? Sleep over everything but sex?"

She nearly chokes at the unexpected question, but manages to get it under control. "I…" she feels her face flush and hopes it can be blamed on the wine. She knows the answer to the question because it's a resounding yes, but she doesn't want to open the door to this conversation.

As a result, she stays quiet for a little too long, and Mal remarks, "I thought the sex was good."

She glares at her, and resigns herself to having this conversation. "It is, and I would."

"How good?" Kathryn asks, eyes lighting up with interest.

She grabs the wine bottle off of the table and tops up her glass because she's going to need it. "Really, really good."

Kathryn sighs, "Ugh, I'm jealous. Come on Regina give us details, _please_. I can't even remember the last time I had good sex."

"You hooked up with Killian on the weekend," Mal points out.

"Emphasis on the words _good_ sex," Kathryn remarks wryly.

"Wait how bad?" Regina asks curiously because Killian talks a good game, and she's seen him take home many girls.

"Like two seconds of making out, no real foreplay, let me just stick it in you bad." She grimaces, and Mal shudders.

"What did you do?" Mal asks.

Kathryn blushes, "I told him to go slow."

"Kathryn!" Mal scolds.

She laughs, "I know, I know, but I was drunk, and wasn't thinking. Sadly it's not the worst sex I've ever had, but it's up there."

Regina sips her wine, and realizes she really has it good. She's never had an experience quite like that. She's had to give direction, of course, has had some lacklustre oral, but all the guys she's been with at least understood the importance of foreplay.

"Guys like that make me want to stick to women." Mal remarks.

Kathryn looks at her curiously, "You're bi?"

How did she not know that? Regina wonders, but then it must not have come up before, and really why would it?

"Very much so, like most people," and oh here they go. "I think everyone is a little bi, but heteronormativity suppresses it. Take Regina for instance," she groans, "she'll tell you she's straight but she's not, she's just never dated a woman, so it hasn't needed to come up."

She doesn't even bother to argue because she and Mal don't exactly see eye to eye on this point. While she may have a _slight_ attraction to women, likes to kiss them, she doesn't have any interest in dating them, and so it's not relevant. She doesn't understand the need to label herself, she likes what she likes and that's that, why is it anyone's business.

"I don't tell people I'm straight, they assume. I just don't talk about my sexuality because it's nobody's business."

"But you don't bother to correct them."

She huffs, "There's nothing to correct, I've only been with men."

Kathryn saves her by commenting, "I think you can't know until you've done it. I think women are attractive, but I don't fantasize about them. If the opportunity presented itself I'd give it a try, so that I'd know for sure, one way or the other."

"I think that could be arranged," Mal drawls. "I know for a fact Ruby thinks you're hot."

Kathryn flushes, "Really? Hmm."

"Women will always give you better oral than a man, that's a fact." Mal remarks. Regina cannot believe they are having this conversation, here, at… she glances at her phone 8:15 pm. She's also not sure she agrees, she doesn't have a reference point of course, but Robin is remarkable with his tongue, in a way she thinks would be hard to top. He'd been great from the beginning, but he's also responsive and observant, so it's only gotten better. She imagines for a second him coming here, them sneaking off to the bathroom and him proving just how good he is, getting her nice and quick under everyone's noses. It's a hot thought, but one she shouldn't be entertaining. Because she's already holding her phone, she swipes it open and sends him a quick text, _Hey how'd the interview go?_ She meant to ask earlier, but it had slipped her mind. It's stupid to ask because he would have told her if he wanted her to know, but she's already sent it so nothing she can do now.

"Who you texting?" Mal asks in a sing-songy tone.

"No one important."

"So Robin then?"

Dammit, she walked herself right into this one. "Yes, fine, if you must know I was texting Robin."

"Speaking of him," Kathryn starts, and Regina sends another glare at Mal who looks awfully pleased with herself. "You never did give those details."

"I can tell you he's no Killian that's for sure."

"Lucky bitch," Kathryn mutters as her phone buzzes with another text.

 _Really good you were right just a formality. I now have training on Saturday._

"That's still not details," Mal adds in case she wasn't aware as she shoots Robin back a: _That's awesome :) Are you celebrating?_

Then she puts her phone away because it's girls night and she's being rude. She thinks for a second about how to frame her answer. "He might put your women are better than men theory to a test."

" _That good?"_ Mal asks incredulously.

She smirks, can't help it and nods, "Yes, _that_ good."

"Well damn, good for him, and you, no wonder you've been so calm lately."

Mal's not entirely wrong, all the sex has done wonders for her tension, but it's also knowing she aced a course, starting to feel like she knows what she's doing.

"I'm so jealous," Kathryn sighs, "You deserve it, but damn."

"I can hook you up with Ruby," Mal offers.

Kathryn laughs, "How about I let you know after Jefferson."

Mal snickers, "Trust me Ruby is way better than Jefferson."

Kathryn's brow knots, "Wait you've… with Jefferson?"

"Mmhmm, it was a long time ago I definitely made him better, but he was no show stopper."

Regina laughs at the look on Kathryn's face because it is just too good. She really likes Kathryn, and sometimes she forgets that Kathryn doesn't know Mal as well, that they've only known each other for a couple of months. Kathryn just fits, and she hasn't had a friend she clicked with so easily since Mal, back when she was 13.

"Do I want to know what you mean by made him better?"

Mal guffaws, "Here's what I think," and oh, here we go, "I think it's hard for men to know what women like and want. They have porn, which teaches them absolutely nothing, and gives them ridiculous expectations. Then most women are too shy, or whatever, to give direction, and it reinforces that what they are doing works. If you want a guy to be good you have to counteract all of that, you have to own your pleasure, and make damn sure they give it to you. And most of them want to learn, there's a select few that don't, and then you kick them to the curb and be done with them."

"And Jefferson?" Kathryn asks.

"He doesn't have good instincts, like at all, but he listens and picks things up, albeit slowly."

Their waitress comes over to check on them and Mal gestures to her nearly empty drink with an, "I'll have another."

That's a lot to drink on a weeknight. Her thought must show on her face because Mal gives her a look. She finds herself saying, "Another?"

"Yeah, we're celebrating."

Mal's always been a big drinker, but this isn't a getting drunk night, or at least it wasn't supposed to be, but the four beer she's had and the fifth that's on the way suggests that's about to change. She reminds herself that it's not her business, and Mal doesn't have a problem with alcohol. If she wants to get drunk on a random Wednesday, well then so be it.

The conversation doesn't circle back to Robin until the girls leave her at the table to go to the bathroom, and she fishes out her phone.

Robin responded to her 'are you celebrating' message with a: _Haha no, I wish instead I'm trying to start this one section of the factum and everything that comes out onto the page is total crap. Hope it's going better for you :)_

She sends back an, _Oh no I'm sure it's not crap,_ and then puts her phone in her purse as she hears Mal and Kathryn approach.

"So Regina," Mal drawls, "What's the deal with you and lover boy anyway?"

"There's no deal. We're sleeping together, that's it."

"You don't want to date him?" Kathryn asks, "Or that's all he wants?"

"It's not him, I don't want to date anyone, I'm not good at relationships," Mal raises her eyebrows, and she gets defensive, "It's true, and you know it, and also this is just easier."

"It's not that you aren't good at relationships, it's that you freak yourself out, look at Daniel—"

"No," she says firmly because they are not going there, they've already hit her sexuality and her sex life with Robin which is more than enough for one night.

Mal shrugs, "Okay fine. My point is you avoid them because you're scared, not because you don't want one, and that you should be careful or that will come and bite you in the ass with this arrangement."

Mal's wrong she doesn't want that, and she's not scared, she just knows better. She doesn't want to date right now, later in life when she's more settled, when things can actually get serious, that's when she'd want to date, but no sooner.

* * *

Robin is so sick of thinking this fact pattern for the factum, he has the more interesting part of their case for sure, but really the essence of his issue is whether or not the guy's head in the window is entering the vehicle, and it just seems kind of… silly that _that_ is a complex legal issue. He cannot wait for Monday, to pass this damn thing in, and take a break from thinking about it for a little while.

John is driving him absolutely batty with how little he's done so far. He claims he hasn't had time, but they live together for god's sake, so he's well aware of all the times John could have been working on it but wasn't. He knows John will get it done, but if he hears one more complaint about not having enough time, he'll scream.

Like tonight, perfect example, they are at the rink waiting for the hockey game to start. Yes, they said they'd come a while back, but the guys would have understood if John backed out because he had too much work. But no, John is here with him, and will probably attend the after-party as well.

"Hey look it's your lady friend," John remarks. He follows John's gaze, and sure enough, there's Regina with Mal, Kathryn and Zelena. They're an odd friend group, on the surface chill, partygoer Mal and serious, studious Regina have nothing in common, but he knows they are the best of friends. The real odd one out though is Zelena, maybe he just thinks that because she really rubs him the wrong way, but she's not friendly like the other girls, she keeps to herself (unless she's drunk) and has this air about her like she thinks she's better than everyone.

He waves at the group, and Regina smiles back and then to his surprise they all make their way over to him and John. There's a decent amount of people here, more than he expected, but the whole row they are sitting in is empty.

He and John shuffle down so the girls have room and he ends up between John and Regina. Regina takes off her hat as she sits down and shakes out her hair and he catches a whiff of it, of that intoxicating apple and coconut scent, and he finds himself wishing he was running his hands through her hair. He wants to kiss her, run his hands through those locks, not as an intro to sex, just to kiss her in greeting, because he can. To sit the whole game with his arm wrapped around her, have her snuggled up into his chest, or their hands intertwined. But he can't do any of that, that isn't what this is. Shit, he's in too deep.

He tries to focus on the guys warming up, tries to keep his mind off of the beautiful woman beside him, but then she's laughing at something Mal said, and the sound is musical. She's so pretty like this, with her hair down, all bundled up in her black coat with matching red mittens and scarf, pink-cheeked from the cold outside. She's stunning, in every way. She takes his breath away, makes him want things he cannot have when he should be satisfied with what he does have, a beautiful willing woman with no strings attached.

Maybe it's because he was in a long term relationship for three years. He's no stranger to hookups, perhaps his mind has forgotten how to live that life, and it just needs to be reminded. Maybe he should take John's advice, not necessarily sleep with someone, but at least flirt a little, so he stops thinking of himself as taken when he's not, of Regina as his when she isn't.

"So who's who?" Regina asks, breaking his reverie.

The question surprises him a little because he thinks it's pretty clear who everyone is, but he points out all of the guys, from Jefferson in net, to defencemen Nottingham and Killian, to forwards Will and David. She squints as he points them out, which leads him to ask, "Do you need glasses?"

She sighs, "I have glasses, but I don't _need_ them."

He laughs because he has never seen her in her glasses. "It seems you do."

She glares at him, "I can see perfectly fine thank you very much, distance is just a little foggy, nothing major. It's barely an issue."

"So that's why you sit in the front row."

She shakes her head, "No, I sit in the front so that I don't get distracted."

"But could you see the board from the back?" he asks skeptically, given that she couldn't tell Jefferson was the goalie, and he's a maximum of twenty-five feet away.

"I could."

Mal laughs at that, "Sure she could see, but all she would see is squiggles from the back row."

Mal gets a glare for that comment, and Robin can't help but chuckle over how cute Regina's ire is. He and Mal have even more fun as the players warm up, pointing out more and more obvious things to her, until Regina rolls her eyes and calls them idiots. During that exchange, Mal offers him her mug, and he takes a sip of a very spiked hot chocolate peppermint schnapps and something, whiskey he thinks, and it warms his belly.

He goes to give it back, but she tells him, "You can have it, I have more," and pulls another travel mug out of her bag.

"I owe you drink then."

"You've given me like six beers at various parties, let's call it even."

And that's probably true, he hasn't been keeping track, but he does tend to be generous with his alcohol and then regretful when he fills in his budget and sees how much he spent on it.

Then the game starts, and they all get caught up in watching. He laughs when John starts grumbling about how bad the ref is after what was a bogus call, but really who cares? Mal also has some things to say about the ref, and by the end of the period, Mal has moved beside John so they can heckle him together, while the rest of the group shuffle over subtly, trying to pretend they aren't with them. And so, of course, seeing that, Mal and John get rowdier.

Jefferson makes a great save that has all of them cheering, with Kathryn going as far as standing up and yelling, "You rock!"

He sees Regina snickering and gives her "What?" look.

She leans in and whispers, "Kathryn is trying to get in his pants," and he had of course chosen that moment to take a swig of his drink so ends up inhaling it instead, when he can't help but laugh at her words.

"You okay?" Regina asks as he coughs and coughs, lungs burning and none too pleased with him.

His eyes start to water, and he pants, "Yep," before coughing again.

"Hands up," Regina tells him, and when he doesn't do it, she insists, "Seriously. Hands up."

But he has his coughing under control, so instead, he takes a deep breath in and then a long breath out. "I'm good." He takes another breath, and then asks, "Jefferson, really?"

"Yeah apparently."

"Hmm," he muses, not paying a lick of attention to the game anymore, "Well if she makes a move I can pretty much guarantee he'll say yes."

"How you know that?"

"He has a thing for blondes."

Regina gives him a coy smile, "And do you?"

He raises an eyebrow, "Have a thing for blondes?" She nods, "No, I much prefer brunettes, and especially ones named Regina."

She smiles shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear, then the arena erupts in cheers and oh, someone from the law team scored a goal. They stand belatedly as their friends look at them all too amused.

"Who scored?" he asks

Zelena responds, "David, which you would know if you'd watch the game instead of flirting with my sister."

Sister, that's news to him. "You two are sisters?"

Regina chuckles, "Half sisters but yes."

"Oh, I didn't know that," is all he can say.

"Is it bad that I was kind of rooting for him to miss that shot?" Kathryn asks and he laughs which causes her to remark, "I'm a petty bitch I know, I want our team to win, just not because of him."

"Well, that's understandable."

"Thank you Robin, I like you," she responds and good, he's friend approved. Then he remembers that doesn't matter, and kicks himself for caring so much.

He manages to pay attention to the rest of the game. It's tied after the second period, and no goals are scored at all in the first ten minutes of the third period. But then, the other team scores a goal and the law students don't manage to get one until the one minute mark. The game goes into overtime, and much to Kathryn's annoyance David scores the winning goal.

Regina bails after the game, wanting to go home and go to bed, but the rest of the girls accompany him and John to Jefferson's place. He laughs to himself when Kathryn slides up beside Jefferson and starts fawning over his saves in the game. He starts up a conversation with Will Scarlett, and soon he's in stitches over a hilarious story. He's not close with Will, not at all, but they hang out in the same circles, and the longer they talk the more he realizes that should change. Will is a great guy, and a fellow Brit turned Canadian, so they have lots to talk about.

He yawns in the middle of Will's rant about people who microwave tea, and Will laughs, "Past your bedtime then mate?"

He chuckles, "Something like that." He checks his Fitbit and actually yes, it's midnight and they have a 9:30 AM class. "Or exactly like that, I'm going to go tell John I'm leaving, have you seen him?"

"Yeah I saw him head upstairs with Jefferson, Killian and a couple blondes." Kathryn is one of those he bets.

"Thanks man, see you around."

"Yeah mate, probably Jefferson's room, second door on the right and see ya."

He hears giggles behind Jefferson's door and knocks. He contemplated just walking in, but he'd hate to catch Kathryn and Jefferson in a compromising position.

Jefferson barely opens the door, just enough to see him, and then lets him with a slurred, "Robin, need a pick me up?"

He steps in, and the door is shut behind him, he has no idea what Jefferson is talking about until he sees the line of cocaine on the dresser right beside Killian and a bleary-eyed Mal. "No thanks, I'm good."

He doesn't see John at first, until he spies him and Kathryn out on the balcony with a joint. That's more like it, he's never known John to do hard drugs, he can be a bit of a stoner, and they did try shrooms that one time when John ended breaking his arm, but never coke.

He gestures outside, and Killian leans down and snorts, "Just um, going to say goodnight to John."

"You okay?" he asks Mal quietly as he passes to get to the balcony.

"Just fine thanks," she snips and okay then, nevermind; clearly he's touched some nerve.

He says his goodbye to John, and asks Kathryn if she's okay, which elicits and much better response than it had from Mal. She gushes over how sweet he is, and how lucky Regina is as John laughs and tells her, "I have some stories that would change your mind about that."

He shakes his head with a playful, "Don't you dare," on his way back into the house. His mind flits to Regina (as it often does) as he grabs his coat, thinking she had the right idea about going home early because he despises getting up for class normally, and his not too late but late enough night tonight ensures it will be even worse than usual.

* * *

Friday and Saturday are a wash of stress and annoyance with John. John hadn't even gotten out of bed when Robin came back from his mind-numbingly boring clinic training at two. It's only gotten worse from there.

The thing is due in just under forty hours, and John has written all of like three lines of his section. They had agreed to finish tonight, and then spend all day tomorrow editing each other's parts. Initially, that was what they were supposed to _today_ in case something was unclear or additional research had ended up being needed as a result of the other's questions.

John had begged for more time and Robin had agreed because in writing out his first argument he had realized he didn't actually understand what he was trying to say, so had to go back and reread the cases. Still though, it didn't stop him from being irritated with John and his laid-back last-minute approach to this project.

It doesn't help when Regina texts him and asks if he'd like to come over, and he has to admit he can't because he's too busy writing the stupid facts section he and John were supposed to write together, but will never get finished if he doesn't just do it himself.

He responds: _Can you do Monday instead? After we pass it in, which at this rate will be one minute before the noon deadline. I'm taking the night off of work_

 _Yeah Monday works because we don't get the Appellant's factum we respond to until class on Tuesday and then I'll get to experience the joys of writing one_

 _Not joy believe me lol._

He goes back to writing as John comes out of his room and refills his water glass. He asks from his spot on the couch, "How's it going?"

"I'm working on it, god."

Jeez, that was testy, and he rolls his eyes because John has no reason to be annoyed with _him_ , he has done nothing but be accommodating. "What's your problem?"

"My problem is that I can't take a break to get a glass of water without you pouncing on me."

That's a load of crap. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah I am Robin, you need to lose the damn attitude."

 _He_ needs to lose the attitude? No. "You need to calm the fuck down."

"Well sorry if the passive aggressive comments are getting on my last bloody nerve. If you have something to say just fucking say it. Quit your bitching, and stop with this passive-aggressive bullshit, I get enough of it as is."

And fine, John wants a piece of his mind, well, he will get it. "Are you _for real_ right now? I have been nothing but supportive, while you been dicking off and giving minimal effort to a project that affects both of our grades. So yeah you know what? I have a right to bitch if I want to. You aren't taking this seriously, and when we do poorly, it's going to be your fault."

"Wow real nice. You know when I asked you to be my partner I expected to be working with my friend, not this nagging bastard."

Oh, fuck that. "I wouldn't be nagging if you'd just do your damn part, but since apparently that's _impossible_ I've had to bug you. Do you think I like doing that? Because I fucking don't."

"THEN DON'T. I'll get my shit done, and I'd get it done a hell of a lot faster without people breathing down my neck."

And yeah 'people' as always the issue is fucking Merida. "Stop blaming me because you're fucking fighting with Merida yet again. It's simple man, _break up with her_. And if you aren't willing to do that then stop complaining to me about how shit your relationship is because I am _sick of it!_ "

"Well what a great fucking friend you are, asshole," with that John exits the living room, slamming his bedroom door, leaving Robin fuming on the couch.

Where does John get off talking to him like that when he is in the wrong? Fuck he's pissed. He wants to go in there and give John a piece of his mind, but that's a bad idea, and he knows it.

He needs to get out of this apartment, go for a walk, clear his head.

He throws on his coat and storms out, slamming the door behind him on his way out (take that John). God, he is livid, he has been nothing but a good friend, and then John goes and snaps on him like that, _not okay_.

He walks at a brisk pace, not really knowing where he's going, needing to blow off some steam, but the more he walks the madder he gets. Walking is not helping burn off his temper like it usually does.

His phone vibrates with a message from Regina: _That was sarcasm, but I'll leave you to the writing_.

No please don't, he thinks, and then he's typing out a bit of a rant about John's behaviour. He's barely started it, and it's already too much to type, but it's making him feel better. He'd never tell any of the guys about it, but he really needs to talk to someone, so he hits the call button instead, and prays she doesn't mind.

Her "Hello," is understandably hesitant.

"Hi, it's Robin," he says and unnecessarily, "I'm sorry I know I said I was busy, but can I just rant for a second? Because I need to get this out."

"Of course, what happened?"

He sighs in relief because he was a little worried about how that was going to go over, "John and I got in a fight, and he's being an asshole. He's the one who hasn't finished his shit, but apparently, I'm the terrible friend."

"Where are you?"

"I went for a walk, needed to clear my head."

"Ahh okay, I was a little worried John could hear you."

"Wouldn't upset me if he could, he called me a nagging bastard and an asshole."

"Oh," she says, sounding sympathetic, "That doesn't sound like him."

He's forced to admit, "It's not usually. He's having issues with his girlfriend, and he's been very short tempered lately."

"What did you say that made him so mad."

"Literally nothing I asked how it was going, and he jumped on me."

"So you said nothing bad in this whole fight," skepticism evident in her tone.

And well no, that's not entirely true, and swearing at John probably wasn't the best thing he could have done.

"I'm going to take that as a no," she says as his silence stretches on.

He sighs, "Yeah I _guess_ I've been short tempered too, I'm stressed, and I've been holding a lot in about his relationship. It's so frustrating to hear about though because they need to break up, but they refuse to, and so instead I have to hear them fight constantly. It makes John in a bad mood, and goddammit I want my friend back. I don't want him to keep feeling this way when he doesn't have to… it sucks."

"You need to tell him that."

"What?"

"What you just said to me, that you want him to be happy, and it's really frustrating to see him not be. You need to tell him _that_."

She's right, this whole time he's never said that. "I should." He's still a little angry and a bit petty, so he adds, "but not until he apologizes."

She chuckles, "I mean do what you want, but you have a project due on Monday, and I don't think you want this fight lingering."

She's right again, he doesn't. He rounds the corner, and he has a choice to make, one way will get him back to the apartment in ten minutes, or he can keep walking.

He should go back, so he starts that way as he tells Regina, "Seriously thank you for this, I just needed to rant for a second. I feel better now."

"Good," he can practically hear the smile in her voice, "And seriously any time, we all need a good bitch session sometimes."

He snickers, "Same to you, seriously, I'd love to hear a good Regina Mills bitch."

"Oh, I'm sure it will happen sooner rather than later. I'm glad Mal's my partner, I really am, but we are both um… strong-willed and like things done a certain way, so it will be interesting to see how this goes."

"I look forward to hearing about it, but hopefully it won't blow up like mine did."

"Hopefully."

He's nearly home so he tells her, "I'm almost home so I'm going to go, thank you for this and I'll see you Monday?"

"Yeah I'll see you Monday, goodnight Robin."

"Goodnight."

He walks in the door with a sense of awkward dread. He's going to suck it up and apologize because it's what's best even though really John should be coming to him. But if John doesn't accept his apology, or makes another dumb ass comment he will probably lose it again.

Maybe he should just wait until the morning. John is holed up in room, he can hide in his. What are the chances they will leave their rooms at the same time? He can avoid John and this a little longer if he wants. But no, he shouldn't, if he sits and stews he might get mad again, and that's not going to help.

He takes a breath, then gently knocks on John's door, praying this isn't a huge mistake.

He opens the door after John tells him to come in. John turns in his chair to look at him, he can see their factum document open, and with a lot more content than before. His first thought is ' _oh thank god_ ' and that maybe he should yell at John more often, but he opts not to voice that.

Now that he's here he doesn't really know what to say. He wasn't perfect, but all in all, he didn't do anything wrong, and he doesn't want John to think he will be his punching bag. They are awkwardly staring, and he needs to say something, should say something, before this gets even weirder.

But it's like all words have left him, and all he can think of is how much it stung that John called him a bad friend. Maybe it's true, but he really doesn't think it is.

All he gets out is, "I, um…"

Then John speaks up, "I, uh, may have overreacted earlier."

And that's an understatement, but in the interest of getting over it he just nods, and says, "You think?" in a teasing tone he doesn't quite sell.

"Fuck man, I don't know what happened Mer and I were fighting too, and then I could tell you were annoyed at me, and I sort of snapped, which wasn't cool."

He's so happy John realizes that because it takes away the last traces of Robin's anger. He thinks about what Regina said, and offers, "I wasn't exactly innocent here. I could tell you were angry, and I pushed you."

John sighs, "You weren't wrong though, we do need to break up, I can't keep doing this."

And oh, thank god, but he tempers his enthusiasm because it seems rather wrong to celebrate the end of his friend's relationship. "I wish I wasn't, but it's just hard for me to see you so unhappy. If you really think you make it work and be happy I'll support you, that's just not the vibe I've been getting."

"Thanks man, are we good?"

"Yeah," he nods, "We are, but, uh, let's not do that again."

John laughs awkwardly, "Agreed." and then bear hugs him. "You are a really good friend Robin."

"You too man."


	5. January IV

She doesn't know why she does it, but she invites Robin over for dinner. He had asked her what time he should come over, and she was already planning on making lasagna, so she found herself asking whether he wanted to come over earlier to test it out. It was stupid, you don't make dinner for your casual sex friend, but he needs to eat, and she'll get sick of lasagna before she can finish it. He spills compliments as he eats it, tells her it's the best lasagna he's ever tasted. It's awfully domestic, a home-cooked meal shared over her table with champagne.

Robin had brought _champagne,_ which wasn't helping with her efforts to make this less romantic. Apparently John had bought them each a bottle to celebrate with, and so he'd decided to share it with her. It's not really champagne, it's a sparkling wine, and a cheap one at that, but it's decent enough. She'll probably have a little buzz going by the time they finish the bottle.

They settle in the living room again after dinner because they still have a bit of the bottle to finish.

She had the foresight to bring some condoms down this time, can't risk another stupid and careless decision because she's too horny to make it up the stairs. She'd placed them in her tool drawer in the kitchen, which had led to a little fantasy of him taking her on the counter that she'd be happy to enact if the opportunity arises.

"So Zelena is your half-sister?" Robin asks, while reaching for his glass.

She nods. "Yes same mother, different fathers, but we didn't grow up together."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, Zelena lived with her dad." She sets her glass onto the coffee table, "So my mother is um… an interesting woman, she was born poor and wanted wealth and status. Long story short, her plan was to get a rich man to marry her, but she thought Zelena's dad was wealthier than he was. It was only when she was already pregnant that she realized he was actually solidly middle class. She was going to give Zelena up, but he wanted her, so my mother gave him sole custody and moved on with her life like that never happened."

Robin's eyebrows raise, and she can feel the judgment. "Whoa, that must have been tough for Zelena."

She pulls her legs up onto the couch beside her and leans a little more into him, "It was, and she didn't handle it well, _at all_. She was jealous of me, the wanted daughter. The one who actually got her mother's love." She sighs, and he wraps his arm around her shoulder. "She didn't see all the bad in it, and she made it her mission to ruin my life. She bullied me, turned almost the whole school against me, all to punish me for having the life she wanted."

She looks up at him, and Robin's face is understandably confused. "You two seem close—how did that happen?"

"She almost got expelled for what she was doing to me. They let her stay and graduate but with conditions, one of which was therapy. It was what she needed the whole time, and she realized how horrible she'd been. She apologized and tried to make amends. When she explained—because keep in mind I didn't even know she existed until _she_ told me—I felt bad for her. I forgave her, and that was that. She earned her forgiveness, she put in a lot of work and became a totally different person. She wanted us to have a relationship but I didn't, at first anyway and she respected that. But I got curious, so we met for coffee and would see each other every so often. Then her dad died, and we started seeing each other more because I'm the only family she has left—since my mother refuses to have anything to do with her. But really it was only when we both got into the same law school that we got close. We were both moving to a new city, so yeah."

She smiles at him, he smiles back at her and god he's attractive. She continues, "Sorry, that was a bit of a long story."

He strokes his hand lazily over her thigh as he tells her, "Don't be sorry."

This is nice, this is really nice, sitting here cuddled up talking. She could get used to this. Then she remembers they aren't dating, and they need to stop with the casual intimacy.

This is supposed to be about sex, she could jump him, or… "What's your favourite sex position?"

He laughs, "That's an abrupt shift in conversation."

She shrugs, "Yeah, but we're friends with benefits, this arrangement is about sex, so I feel like we should talk about it, make sure we're giving each other what we want."

He swallows heavily and nods, his tone teasing, "Doggie style, especially when the person's ass is as nice as yours."

She huffs a little laugh. What a flatterer, though not untrue, she knows she's has a great butt.

"And yours?" he asks.

"I like to be on top."

He smirks, "So I've noticed," and then he adds, "What turns you on?"

"You've figured out most of it, neck, jaw, I love whispering in my ear, um, I like being grabbed, spanked, having my hair pulled." He's looking at her with such interest she has the urge to look down but she doesn't. "I like hearing what I do to a person. You?"

He lets out a shaky breath, "I also like being grabbed, I like being the spanker, and I love hearing you, when you let me know just what to do and how good it feels. I like being directed when you tell me what you want, what you want me to do to you, it's sexy." God, she's getting warm, can feel her cheeks heating. "Oh and um, begging, if you do that it, uh, really gets me."

She arches a brow, "Begging?" he nods, his eyes darkened with lust. She's struck with an image of him getting her so hot she has to beg for it, and she shivers, shit. But she's not quite done with this conversation yet, "What turns you off?"

"Faking, for obvious reasons, same with fake noises, excessive dirty talk—"

She interrupts then because, "What is excessive dirty talk?"

He laughs, "I was with this one woman, and she was talking the _whole time,_ and that was, um, a bit much.

That would be weird, "Sorry, go on…"

"Right, I don't like pain or being tied up and, um, period sex grosses me out."

And oh, that last one is kind of a shame but what can you do? At least hers are short. "Anything else?"

He shakes his head, "That about sums it up. What about you?"

"Being called a slut or a whore, ew and anything with feet, that's a hard pass. I like giving head, but I hate having hair in my mouth."

He smirks, "Noted."

"And also watching porn."

He raises his brows at that one, "Really?"

"Yes really, my ex wanted us to watch it together, and it was just… weird."

"So what do you… If you were in the mood or trying to get into it what would you do?"

She blushes and grabs for her glass looking down at it as she admits, "I'd read, um, erotica." Robin, bless him, lets that go. She knows she shouldn't be ashamed of it, but there's a double standard and erotica has a bad reputation that porn doesn't, which frankly is ridiculous, but so are most, if not all, other misogynist manifestations.

He saves her from her embarrassment by asking, "Any sex positions you hate?"

"None of those weird hanging upside down ones. My ex-boyfriend Daniel and I, we downloaded one of those sex position apps, and we skipped all of those ones."

His eyes narrow teasingly, and he's smiling as he asks, "Downloaded an app?"

She laughs, "He was my first, and he'd been with someone else, and I wanted to be the best he'd ever had. And it was fun. We spent one day just checking them all out and marking off the ones that looked fun to try. Some winners, mostly losers, but yeah we stayed far, far away from all the handstand ones."

"Those are a bit… much. I swear people only do them just to say they've done them. No one actually has sex like that, right?"

She nods, chuckling, "That's how I feel too."

"Okay, so that shouldn't be a problem. Is there anything you want to try but haven't, or something you want that we haven't done?"

She sighs, "I don't know if I'll like it, I like the idea of it, but…"

"What do you mean?" And right, she should probably say something that actually means something.

"Things that are dangerous, or not dangerous but could be dangerous if your partner doesn't have you. Um, like, having your safety in their hands. With Daniel, we used handcuffs once, and I was standing bent over and him holding my wrists was the only thing keeping me from falling onto my face. I trusted him to keep me safe but that sense of danger of not being in control, it was so… exciting."

"So you like not being in control?"

He looks intrigued, so she tells him, "Yeah, I really do."

He groans, " _Fuck_ that's hot."

"And you like being in control?" she asks, looking up to find him staring at her heatedly in a way that makes everything inside her go hot.

"God yes, I didn't really realize how much until Marian read those awful _Fifty Shades_ books and wanted to experiment. But god, there's just something about having a woman totally at your mercy, it's so… hot."

She imagines herself for a second being totally at his mercy, having him bring her right up and then stop. She feels herself growing wet just from the thought. Her voice is deeper, husky, when she asks, "So you've experimented with BDSM?" He nods, so she asks, "And you liked it?"

"I did, very much so but I don't need it to enjoy sex."

Her breath hitches because this just got way more interesting. "What if I wanted to try?"

He groans again, and god that's sexy. "I would love that, but first tell me what you think of when you think of, what you would want."

The first thing she thinks of is the exact opposite of what he asked, but she says it anyway. "I don't—the whole sir thing doesn't do it for me. I would if you liked that, but it's not something I find hot."

"What do you find hot?"

"The whole idea of being denied is, um, really sexy. I like the idea of holding back, being brought to the edge but not letting go. Of being made to beg for it."

He smirks in a way that makes her heart stutter in anticipation, "Now that can be arranged."

* * *

An hour later she's eating her words. It had sounded so good, and it is holy shit, is it ever, but she is dying for it, and he will not let up. She's sitting on her desk with him in her chair, eating her out. She's never going to be able to sit in this room without thinking about this again. She is so, so close but she knows he's going to stop.

She cannot wait any longer, she can't, she's going to come, she can't stop it. He knows her too fucking well though, because just as she's about to come, _finally,_ he smirks, and she whines when he yet again moves his mouth off of her clit and takes his fingers away. It's fucking torture, but good torture and, oh fuck, she cannot wait to come. God he has to let her, can't he see she is dying here? Dying!

"Settle down, love," he urges, and she's fucking trying to calm her riotous body, but even hearing him talk in that sexy as hell detached tone he pulled out tonight for this makes her clench and throb.

She feels like she's going to burst, but she won't come, she can't, not without him doing something, but it wouldn't take much at all.

"God Robin please," she begs, she can't take much more of this. Earlier he took his sweet time with her, kissing her everywhere but where she was so wet for him, building her up and up until her clit was aching and she was closer than she'd ever been without having her sex touched. Then he went down on her, did all of the things he knows she likes, had her whimpering and pleading to please, please let her come after only a couple of minutes. And it could have been sooner, but she was testing her resolve, fighting off her orgasm because she knew it would make it that much better.

But as soon as she was there, at the end of her tether, he had backed off, pressed kisses to her belly and then pressed sweet kisses to her lips as she backed away from the edge.

It had been his fingers next, crooked just so inside her, every press making her hotter. She was right there but stuck, so fucking close that if he had just tapped her clit, she's fairly certain she would have come on the spot. But he didn't, he avoided her clit until her every breath was a beg to let her come, her voice ridiculously high and desperate.

He had had to talk her down, remind her to breathe, setting a rhythm for her breath as her body protested the loss of sensation when he pulled his talented fingers from inside her.

Then he had started this, fingers back inside her hitting just the right spot. She had yelped when he lowered his mouth to her clit, but god, it was so good.

It hadn't taken long at all for her to be right at the cusp of orgasm. And he had stopped _again._ Pulling his fingers from her, his mouth away and giving her that infuriating self satisfied evil smirk. He's a bastard, a right bastard who needs to let her come.

She has barely calmed herself down, sucking in deep breaths, forcing herself to hold in the inhale and slowly exhale to calm her racing heart. She's still right on edge, not quite so desperately close, but right there. He lowers his mouth sucks at her clit and oh fuck, oh _fuck,_ her belly is molten she can't hold back. Shit, this is too fucking good. He has to let her come this time, he has to, she can't take any more of this delicious toe-curling pleasure.

He moves his mouth off to tell her, "Don't come." And god, that shouldn't be so hot, but it is. Except she can't not come. She's right there and what he's doing is pushing her closer and closer. She grits her teeth, trying because she wants to obey even though every fibre of her being is begging her to let go. She's trying not to come, but she can't, not when it's like this. She feels the tremors start and oh fuck, she's there, she feels her orgasm about to burst, and he pulls away. No, no, no fuck. She whimpers, and it's pathetic, but she _needs_ to come, is so close that if she squeezed her legs together, she would come from just that. The slightest of pressure on her clit and she'd be a goner.

He's smirking at her smugly, and even that makes her moan and throb. She is so far gone she would do literally _anything_ to get him to let her come.

"Having fun?" he asks as his hands pluck over her nipples pinching and twisting hard, and oh God. Her belly twitches as her sex clenches against nothing. She feels an empty ache inside her that's begging to be filled.

She squeaks out a "Yessss," and then a, "god, please let me come."

He bites his lip, making a dramatic show out of considering it as she plots a thousand different ways she could kill him if he doesn't let her come this time.

She knows she asked for this but God, she hadn't expected it to be this hot, to be subjected to this kind of exquisite torture, to be held on the edge for _so long._

"So impatient," he muses as his hands slide down to her ass, gripping it firmly as she moans at the sensation.

"Robin please, I—oh God—can't take anymore. _Please_."

"I think you could take one more." And fuck, no. She shakes her head vehemently and he snickers smugly, the jerk.

"Tell me what you would do to come, and I'll think about it."

She groans and pants, "Anything, God anything. Please, I'll do anything you want. I _need_ to come."

He pulls her off of the desk onto his lap, and she feels him hard in his pants right against her bare soaked sex. She wants to grind against him, ride that bulge, but then she will come, and she wants to succeed.

He smacks her butt and, "Oh _fuck_."

"No noise," he commands, "Keep quiet for five spanks, then I'll let you come."

Oh, that's _hot_. She bites her lip and nods. His hand smacks down against her butt again, heating radiating out from the firm slap and making her even hotter for him, which she didn't realize was possible. She bites her cheek to keep from crying out as he does it again, holy hell it is ever _good_. The bite of pain shocks her, makes her needy clit throb even harder.

She's never had to fight harder to keep silent then on his third slap, everything clenching right as she lets out a shallow breath in the aftermath, only to have him smack her again. Her breath squeaks out, and she looks at him with wide eyes. He can't count that as a sound. He can't! It's not fair.

He chuckles, "I'll give you grace tonight," then he gives her the firmest slap he has all night and everything inside her goes molten hot. It takes everything she has not to cry out, but she makes it by sheer force of will. Relief is finally in sight.

He urges her up off of his lap, and as she stands—back to the desk she wonders, will he eat her out again, suck her clit until she comes, or is he going to fuck her with his fingers firmly right against her g-spot, palm grinding against her clit? Her breath hitches as he stands, undoing and stepping out of his pants and boxers. Is he going to fuck her? He's so hard it makes her clench, all of the possibilities swirling in her mind making her practically vibrate with anticipation. Whatever he does, she knows it will be unreal.

Then he tells her, "Suck my cock," and her face falls, mouth opening as she whimpers.

She stutters out a whiny, "But… but you said I could come."

He nods, "And you can… after you suck me off." That's… no! He can't be serious, he can't expect her to wait that long.

He laughs at her bewildered devastation and amends, "Or not off," he smirks, "at first anyway. Just for a moment or two, I'll tell you when to stop."

He is hellbent on denying her, and though it's what she asked for, she didn't know what she was getting herself into. But she trusts him, and she knows the wait will be worth it, so she resigns herself to another couple of minutes without relief.

Usually, she'd tease, but she doesn't want to draw this out, the quicker he gets close, the faster she'll get relief. So she takes him into her mouth as deep as she can, her hand playing with his balls. He lets out a choked, "Oh fuck," that just makes her want him even more. The knowledge that he's lost the cool, detached thing he had going on from the first touch of her mouth makes her even wetter. She needs him, _now_ , but he hasn't said stop, so she starts a fast pace up and down his cock with her mouth, alternating between sucking firmly and swirling her tongue against him. She's doing her damndest to bring him up quickly, and the appreciative groans and the jerk of his hips suggest it's working. And thank fucking god because she hadn't been lying when she said doing this turned her on, and that rat bastard had to go and use it against her.

His hand cards through her hair and she shivers, god she wants him, _needs him_ so badly. She looks up to find him staring down at her, watching her take his cock in and out intently.

He moans, jerks and pants, "G-od you're sexy," and why the fuck isn't he telling her to stop yet. Her clit throbs with her every breath, her sex aching to be filled, soaking down into her ass, maybe even onto the floor, her thighs tense, heart still hammering because of her desperate arousal. This is all so fucking hot, but her body is begging for the sweet relief of release.

She takes him as deep as she can, delighting in his sharp gasp of, "Fuuck, like that." She does it again, and again until he finally says, "Oh fuck stop, stop, shit darling, god, t- _oo_ close." It thrills her to hear how desperate he sounds, now at least he knows how she feels.

Her heart stutters because finally, finally, she is going to get to come. She stands, and he sinks to his knees giving her a predatory look before his tongue flicks over her clit. Oh fuck, yes, yes, she braces her hands against the desk as everything inside spikes and coils.

She's moaning, "Oh god, oh god, oh _god_ ," as he slips two fingers inside her, hitting just where she needs, heat rushing out from every push of his fingers against that spot.

Her thighs are tense, twitching, and his one hand grips her ass, as everything explodes. Hot waves of pleasure shoot out from her sex, up her spine and down her legs. She comes and _comes,_ and it's intense and fucking amazing. The pleasure is acute and unrelenting, coursing through her body as she cries out loud _Ahh_ 's. It consumes her, makes her buck and clench, head thrown back because god is it ever _good_. As the pleasure finally crests and she settles back down she jerks, oversensitive. It's too much, far too much, but before she can beg him to stop, it loses that shine of too much and becomes _so good_. She cries out as she feels another orgasm build, this one expeditious and scorching, everything growing hot, tense and needy at whirlwind speed.

He pants, "Fuck come again darling," and she lets out a half-delirious sob as she vaults into another orgasm, her one hand pulling at his hair, the other glued to the desk. She is flooded with sheer bliss, consumed by the euphoria as she cries out with her pleasure. She feels it deep inside, fierce waves radiating out and out, leaving her utterly satisfied as everything goes blessedly loose.

She sinks against the desk, panting as she tries to get her breath under control.

"Fuck that was so hot," Robin pants, as he stands. When he's up, he kisses her, his hard length pressing into her belly. Right, they aren't done.

He rasps, "Need to have you," and then he's pushing her back onto the desk.

She resists, trying to steady her voice but in the end panting, "Condom."

He frowns, shit, this is why she should have insisted last time. "I'll pull out, need to have you now babe."

She shakes her head and thanks god he didn't try to fuck her before she came. "That was a one-time thing."

His face falls a little, but then he rallies, using his hands not to place her on the desk, but to scoop her up. She takes the hint, wraps her legs around his waist and kisses him soundly.

He carries her into her bedroom, throws her down onto the bed and asks, "Where are they?"

"Nightstand."

As he opens the drawer and grabs one, he tells her, "Fuck love, one day we are going to have some fun with the other contents of this drawer."

She flushes and swallows heavily, as arousal floods her. She wonders what contents he's referring to, one of her vibrators probably, just the thought makes her clench, imaging him pounding her from behind as he presses it to her clit. If he meant the sex dice or the lube (if so what are his intentions), her vibrator is still happening someday because just the thought has her ridiculously riled up.

"Ass to the edge of the bed darling," He commands and oh god, heat streaks through her belly because that's precisely what she was picturing. If he grabs her vibe right now she will lose it.

She's loud when he thrusts into her but it's good, and then he's pulling her up and bit, and it changes the angle, so he's hitting right against her g-spot and "OH fuck."

He feels fucking amazing, pounding against that spot, god it is ever good. Then he starts fucking her harder, grunting, "Yeah, you like that love?"

All she can do is nod and moan because god, does she ever. It's acute and overwhelming, but in the best of ways, and oh fuck, she's close, she's so close, oh god.

His one hand slides to rub over her clit in firm tight circles, and she twitches, lets out another "oh fuck," as everything inside tightens. He pulls her hair, and she moans. Fucking hell this might be the best sex she's ever had in her damn life, and he's barely been inside her for five minutes.

He lets go of her hair to slap her ass, and the heat that radiates out is what pushes her over the edge. She jerks, clenches and _moans_ as she comes on his cock, his every thrust drawing out more and more pleasure, hot waves flooding out from where he's filling her over and over. God it's so fucking good she feels tears against her lashes as the pleasure begins to crest. As she settles, pleasant little aftershocks still rippling through her, her limbs start to go heavy.

He starts fucking her deeper, but it's too much, so she stills him takes a minute to breathe and come back to herself. Then she remembers his 'suck me off' comment and decides she'll do just that.

"Robin," she starts, craning her neck so she can look at him, "fuck my mouth."

He groans, dropping his head and letting out a long breath, "Fuck you're sexy."

She smirks as he pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash as she lays down in the middle of the bed and he comes to lay down beside her. She kisses him hotly, then arches a brow and tells him, "I said I want you to fuck my mouth. You can't do that from over there."

His eyes widen comically, and he takes a sharp breath in as she grabs a pillow to prop up her head while looking at him expectantly. He straddles her face as he groans again, and she feels a dark thrill at how riled he is over this.

Her hands grip at his ass as she swirls her tongue around his head, making him stutter, "O-oh g-g-god." He tastes a bit like the condom, but she licks it all away before getting to work. She smirks and takes him in deep, sucking firmly. She pulls her head back letting him plop out from her lips, and rests her head on the pillow, pulling him by the hips down to her open mouth, settling her hand at the base of him.

"Jesus love, I c-an't, can't be gentle, need it t-too bad."

She hums her approval, and he starts thrusting in earnest, he doesn't go too deep, she's not taking him all the way, but her hand compensates for what she's missing. He doesn't seem to mind at all, is spilling appreciative comments, that get cut off on a loud moan when she starts playing with his balls.

"Oh fuck, love, god, gonna cum."

She sucks harder in approval and then he's coming, spilling into her mouth with a satisfied moan that would turn her on if she wasn't so spent. She swallows and gives him one last sucking pull until he falls from her lips with a trembling groan.

He collapses beside her, sighing happily and she agrees. They don't talk for a minute, but she shivers slightly, the drying sweat on her skin making her cold. She doesn't want to move, not yet, so she tugs at the covers and slips under the blanket. He does the same, shuffling up, she probably should kick him out of her bed, but then he's pulling her into his arms, and it's nice.

They'll move in a minute, just another minute of quiet revelling. The silence is surprisingly comfortable; typically silence makes her anxious, wondering what the other person's thinking and whether or not the face of the silence was weird, but with Robin it's different, she doesn't feel any need to fill the silence. They can just sit together quietly, revelling in afterglow.

As it turned out, they revelled a bit too much. She rolls over half asleep and wakes up with a start when she hits an arm. She takes a few calm, slow breaths in, calming her racing heart, realizing it's just Robin and they had fallen asleep. She feels ridiculous for being so scared, but sleepovers are not a part of their arrangement, so she's not used to having anyone else in her bed. They'd fuck, and he'd leave at some point, usually a bit begrudgingly, after some gentle suggestions from her that he should be on his way. And it isn't that she doesn't _want_ him to stay, because she usually does, likes curling up in his arms after. But actually sleeping together is just so intimate and seems too dangerous, especially given all the bonding hormones that swirl around after the mind-blowing sex. She needs to stay unattached, keep her focus on school, and that's why they don't do this.

She looks over at the clock on her nightstand and groans, it's 4:30 am and Robin's fast asleep, so she can't wake him up without it being really weird. She'll just go back to sleep, but he has his arm around her, and as much as she likes it, it has to go. They need some boundaries, even in sleep, so she moves his arm and then moves as far as she can away from him before drifting back to sleep.

She had planned to give him hell in the morning for staying over, but then soft kisses and wandering hands wake her up, and her annoyance with him for falling asleep is soon replaced with something else, something better.

After they've finished, she remembers he isn't supposed to be there. "As much as that was nice, this can't happen a second time. You staying over, I mean."

"I'm sorry, did I keep you up?" he asks sincerely.

And surprisingly he hadn't. When she was with Graham, she could never fall asleep with him in her bed. She thought it was because she was too used to sleeping alone, but she fell asleep quickly the night before—which must have been a fluke, caused by him wearing her out from the sex, because she isn't one for falling asleep quickly, or on another person for that matter.

"No I actually I slept fine," better than fine, but he doesn't need to know that. "Other than when I woke up the middle of the night and scared the crap out myself when I realized there was another person in my bed."

He laughs at that, "Well that was the best sleep I've had in a long time, and if I hadn't stayed then we wouldn't have been able to do that this morning." And that's true but… "I do hope that made up for the scare."

"Oh it did," she tells him. "Unfortunately I have to get up, I need to shower, so you should probably go."

"As you wish darling, I'll enjoy my day off and see you in class on Wednesday. Do you think we will get a suit or a sweatshirt tomorrow?"

She can't help her giggle at the question, their property professor's clothing choices have become a running joke in their section. The first week back he wore a full suit, the second a sweat suit. "I don't know, Prof Grump's style leaves much to be desired."

"I'm still hoping he rocks that short-sleeved gold suit again." And Regina full-on laughs remembering that atrocity he had worn to a class in the fall.

"Well given that it's winter I doubt it, but that was pretty epic. If it happens again Mal is determined to get a picture of it." She needs to start getting ready, so she should really ask him to leave because unlike him she has to go to their Legal Research and Writing class today. She shouldn't be jealous he has the day off because she had the last four LRW classes off, but she is.

Before she can insist he go, Robin's talking again. "Speaking of Mal, she mentioned it's your birthday Thursday and invited me to meet up with you guys. So I thought I would come… unless you would prefer I didn't."

She doesn't know why he wouldn't come, unless he was looking for a way out, perhaps he was worried it was too girlfriend-like so she tries to reassure him. "Oh no that's fine, everyone's welcome, she invited most of our section so yeah, bring anyone you want. The pre is at Mal's, and then we're going out somewhere."

The girls had insisted that Regina celebrate, and not her usual max three drinks go home early routine, and she had used their Friday morning class as an excuse not to drink too much. However, on Monday Professor Ingrid Fisher had emailed them cancelling Friday's class because she has pneumonia. There had been a great many jokes about the Ice Queen getting sick, which she had ignored because she really likes Professor Fisher. With class out of the way Regina didn't have an excuse anymore and agreed to see where the night will take her. She knows the girls just want her to have a good time, and they will make sure that happens, so she has no reason to be anything but happy about this party.

"Alrighty, I'll be there. Enjoy your shower, and I'll see you on Wednesday." With that, he leaves her room. She throws on her robe as he goes and collects his clothes from the other room. She meets him at the stairwell and follows him down. He kisses her sweetly goodbye at her doorway. Once she shuts and relocks her front door, Regina sets her sights on getting ready in the now very limited time she has.


	6. February I

**Since there's wifi on my flight and I don't know when else I'll get the chance I'm posting the chapter early.**

 **It's Regina's birthday but Robin doesn't have the best time.**

 **TW: Drug and alcohol abuse, violence, non-consensual touching and brief discussions of sexual assault**

* * *

It's Regina's birthday, and the girls have gone all out. Kathryn brought a birthday crown and sash to class in the morning, one that Regina outright refused to wear despite Kathryn and Mal's attempts to persuade her. Regina knows for a fact Mal only wanted her to wear it because she was so against it and Mal thought that was hilarious.

To shut them up Regina agreed to wear them the stupid crown and sash at night, a choice she now regrets. She's wearing a short black dress that shows a lot of leg. It dips down in the front and back showing off her cleavage, but the bright pink Birthday Girl sash is somewhat ruining the effect.

Her mother would burn this dress if she ever saw it, and so Regina keeps it hidden away from Cora's gaze. It is a bit slutty, but Regina knows she has a good body, and sometimes it's fun to show that off. She could say she wore the dress just for her, but that would be lying, there's someone she wants to see this dress, one guy whose jaw she wants to drop. Robin has never seen her in this dress, and she can't wait to see his reaction. The only problem with this dress is that her pathetic attempts to tell Kathryn the crown and sash didn't go with her outfit were just that, pathetic. As Mal oh so helpfully pointed out—earning herself a good death glare— she's wearing all black and black goes with everything.

It's her, Mal, Zelena and Kathryn to start, the four of them sitting in around Mal's dining room table with wine before everyone else arrives. It's nice to have some time with just the girls before the fun really begins.

Unfortunately for Regina today's topic of conversation is her, and Kathryn is intent on finding out more about her and Robin, not listening to Regina's protests that there is nothing more to tell. Didn't they _just_ talk about this like a week ago?

"Come on Regina, you guys have been together for a couple of weeks now, surely there is something more to tell."

"Nothing new since the last time we talked about it." That's not exactly true there was that mind-blowing sex on Monday night, but she'd need about ten more drinks to spill details on _that_.

"Still amazing though?" Kathryn asks.

She nods because oh Kathryn has no idea and earns herself a hissed _lucky bitch_.

"No luck with Jefferson then?" she asks because she knows that Kathryn had gone to his post-hockey game after party but never heard anything about what happened, which usually means it was okay. If it is really good or really bad, she'll hear about it right away, but since it's been a week…

"We made out a bit at his party but I wanted to get to bed, and he was still partying, so I left. I thought he'd ask to see me, but nope. So yeah, we will see."

Mal jumps in, "Jefferson is very… passive. He doesn't go after what he wants, he lets things happen to him. So if you want him, you are going to have to make the move, don't wait on him or it will never happen."

"Okay then, good to know." Kathryn gives Mal a look, and then Mal stands and oh lord what now? Regina has a direct view of the kitchen, so she gets her answer when four pink shots are pulled out of the fridge and are laid out along Mal's island.

She gets up too, and as she makes her way closer, she realizes the glasses are dotted with sprinkles. Kathryn is smiling broadly, and she knows these were her idea.

She grabs on tentatively as she asks, "What is this?"

"Birthday cake shots!" Kathryn almost squeals, "I found them online, so hopefully they are good because I made a bunch."

"Wait you didn't try them first?" Mal asks with an arched brow.

"Nope."

Great, so these are probably going to be disgusting. She steels herself as they cheers, and then she downs the shot which is surprisingly alright.

"What's in these?" she asks.

"Cake vodka and Baileys, and then icing around the rim to make the sprinkles stick," Kathryn responds smugly.

"Why are they pink then?" Mal asks beating Regina to the question she was going to ask.

"Oh and food colouring too, so that they match Regina's sash."

Her and Mal both groan and Kathryn looks offended which makes Zelena burst into laughter.

"Why exactly do you think _I_ like pink?" Regina asks because that is baffling.

Kathryn lets out a peal of laughter. "Oh I don't, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up." Mal guffaws at that and Kathryn smirks, "Just wait for your birthday Mal."

They all laugh at the horror that crosses Mal's face, and her hissed, "You had better not." She sighs, "I'm in the summer anyway so maybe I'll just conveniently go away for my birthday."

Regina snorts and then laughs at herself for snorting. It's funny because it's so something Mal would do, go away to avoid any kind of embarrassing birthday which makes Regina really want to see it happen anyway. "I'll help you plan it," she offers.

Kathryn smiles gleefully when Zelena adds, "Oh me too, I'm dying to see it."

Mal glares at all of them, "You bitches."

They laugh as they make ridiculous plans to get a rise out of Mal, then Kathryn decides it's time for another shot. It's then Regina learns there are a whole 24 of them, because it's her 24th. Six for each of them and the thought of that makes Regina feel a little ill, but it is her birthday, and they really aren't that bad.

After the third round, Zelena asks curiously, "So is Robin Hood coming?"

She rolls her eyes at the moniker, "Robin said he was coming yeah."

"You two were awfully chummy at the hockey game, what's the deal sis?"

And right, Zelena wasn't there when she got the third degree initially. "No deal, just sex."

"Looked like more than that to me."

Regina shrugs and gives Zelena a look that thankfully shuts her up. But of course, it doesn't stop Kathryn from asking, "Aren't you worried about that getting messy, does casual sex really ever work?"

And yes she's maybe a little worried about that, but she doesn't want to talk about it. "I think it can work, you just have to be clear about what you want and how you feel."

Mal comments dryly, "You two seem to be spending a lot of time together outside of the bedroom for it to be just sex."

Regina huffs, most of the time she loves how well Mal knows her but not when she's pressing her to think about things she doesn't want to, face things she's not ready to. It makes her defensive. "What are you getting at Mal?"

"I think you like him and you are too scared to admit it."

Kathryn and Zelena stare at her with interest, trying to gauge her reaction and Regina glares at Mal and says firmly (or at least she hopes), "I don't, it's just good sex."

"I don't believe you, little one."

And Regina's done with this topic of conversation. "Well you can believe what you want, but it's not like that."

Her harsh tone seems to work because Kathryn changes the subject and Mal leaves it alone. Still, though, it leaves her uneasy. She finds herself determined to prove both to Mal and herself that she does not like Robin that way.

* * *

Regina's drunk, very drunk, drunk and happy, oh so happy. Everything is good and mellow and fun and… yeah she's definitely drunk. The four of them had polished off two bottles of wine before anyone had arrived and then there had been the shots, she's not even sure how many. The ones before and ones the now. She keeps getting called over by various people because she's the birthday girl.

Everything's swirly, and she's giddy, giggly, and loud, but doesn't care. Why should she, she's having fun, and it's her birthday. Everything's good, so good, it's shaping up to be the best night ever, that is until Robin arrives.

She doesn't see him at first, too caught up chatting with Jefferson, who seems to be trying to get in her pants even though he's slept with Mal and is doing whatever he is with Kathryn. Going for someone a friend has slept with just seems icky to her and also she has Robin. Jefferson's harmless though, he's a flirt, but he doesn't go through with it—much at Kathryn's annoyance she thinks and then snickers. He asks if she's laughing at his request and she's not, but she giggles again because why not? She then agrees to save him one dance at the club. He is a phenomenal dancer so it's an easy promise to make and they always have fun, so much fun… And what's happening?

She looks at him a little stunned, she thinks he said something else but she missed it entirely and then he's turning away so oops. With him out of the way, she looks around the room to see who she should go talk with. She's so… chatty tonight, chatty, and fun, and free, and god she should do this more often. Why doesn't she drink more often? This is fun. She notices Robin and a blonde girl, something burns inside her, but no it's fine he's probably just talking with whomever that is. He looks good, so good maybe she can pull him into the bathroom and have her wicked way with him, a happy birthday to her. Fuck that girl she can wait, or watch, wait no not that.

She begins to make her way over to greet them and sees red when the blonde turns, and it's Emma-Fucking-Swan. He brought _her_ to Regina's birthday party. Is he fucking serious, what the hell? She's _livid._ She has no right to be, no right to feel this burning jealousy in the pit of her stomach. He can fuck whoever he wants, but for fuck's sake did it have to be her. Regina's been second to her before, and it's not an experience she wants to repeat.

Images of walking into her boyfriend at the time Graham's room and finding a topless Emma Swan grinding on him flood her and fuck, fuck. She needs to stop thinking about that. And fuck Emma Swan for not only doing that, but killing her buzz she had going. Emma Swan will not ruin another night of her, no fucking way.

She tries to ignore them, looks around for her girls, preferably Mal, but Robin makes his way over and hugs her with a, "Happy Birthday Regina."

She forces a smile, her tone perhaps too syrupy sweet, "Robin, good to see you, and Emma, how _nice_ of you to join us."

Emma smiles back either oblivious or a complete bitch. She gestures to the beer in her hand, "Is there room in the fridge for this?"

"Should be, Mal cleaned out her fridge for this, but if not she has a cooler out on the porch, which honestly might be a better bet because the kitchen's kinda packed."

Emma nods then wanders off toward the front door.

"Imma get another drink, you good Regina?" Jefferson asks.

"I'mmmm…" shit what was the question? She looks at her almost empty cup and _right_. "I'm good." She needs to slow the fuck down if she's going to make it out to the club. This will not be a repeat of her 21st where Mal made it her mission to get her very drunk and Regina ended up passing out by 11:30. She looks down at her watch, and it's blurry, but she focuses in and 10:30, ha, she will for sure make it past that.

When she looks up Robin is starring, blatantly checking her out and she flushes under his intense stare. God he's attractive.

He leans in and whispers, "This dress is marvellous, holy shit Regina, you look so hot right now."

She smirks, looks him up and down and he looks good too, wearing a blue shirt that brings out his eyes and jeans that show off his ass. He looks good enough to eat, and she wants to drag him into a dark corner and have her way with him. It's her birthday, and she will definitely be cashing on some birthday sex later.

"You look good too," she says with an attempt at a wink, and then Emma Swan returns, and she remembers she's pissed at him. Or not at him, but because he's fucking Emma and so you know what, fuck him, no birthday sex. Of course, that's a punishment for her too but, well, she'll deal. If he thinks he can just bring another girl to her party and then flirt with her to what earn a quickie so he can go fuck Emma after, well no fucking way.

She needs… she looks around spies the door Emma just came from and it hits her, a cigarette, that will do. She doesn't normally smoke, only when she drinks, and only very rarely, but it's her birthday, and she needs something to take the edge off, so why not. And also she needs to get far away from Emma and Robin before she does something like make a fool of herself claiming him as hers when that's not them. Emma has said something, but she wasn't paying attention, so she just walks away, doesn't bother saying goodbye, any rudeness can be blamed on her drunken state right?

She gets one from Killian, ends up talking with him for a bit out on the porch. He's flirty, tries to get with everyone, and typically, she's all sass and rebuking him, but tonight she leans in, what's the harm right? She'd never sleep with him because ew, and also apparently he's terrible, so yeah, no, never. But she can flirt with him on this porch, that she can do.

* * *

This night is interesting, that's for sure. He barely saw Regina at the pre, when he did she was always busy with someone. He had thought she would want to see him, but that must have been him projecting his feelings. He happened to meet Emma on his walk over so they had got to talking. He doesn't know her that well but she hangs out with the hockey boys (is the only girl on the team), so he figures he should make an effort to get to know her better.

Regina's acting strange. He's never seen her this drunk so that could be it, but it seems like he _did something,_ only he has no idea what. Unless this is how she is at parties. He saw her flirting with Killian, and it had hurt, but he at least knows (or thinks) Killian wouldn't do that to him. She had seemed a bit reluctant when he brought up coming, and he wonders if he's cramping her style, if she had wanted to use this time to hook up, and now feels weird about it because he's here. Maybe he should just go.

He foolishly wanted to spend time with her, but he should have known her birthday party where she is the centre of attention would not lend itself to that. Yes okay, there had been that part of his brain (or lower down) that thought about birthday sex, but that seems to be off the table. He's too attached, he knows he is, and he remembers John's suggestion that he sleep with someone to change that. It's not a terrible plan, but he's not ready for that.

However, when Emma starts grinding on him at the club, he lets her. She's really not his type—he prefers brunettes—but whatever, it is a step in the right direction. So they dance for a while, in a way that could be leading somewhere but so is not, it does nothing for him even though a woman grinding against him should.

It's just, he's too focused on Regina. He needs to stop looking but he can't because every time he looks over jealousy burns inside of him. She's been dancing with so many guys, it's no surprise that people are all over her, look at her, but it bothers him even though it shouldn't. That too far gone part of him is screaming at him to do stupid possessive stuff he knows she would kill him for.

This current guy is the worst yet. Regina's been dancing with him for ages, and he has his hands around her hips, she's leaning back into him like she's enjoying it. God he wishes he was that guy, wishes they were together and could dance like that all night long. Then go home together, and work off all of the pent up lust from the erotic movements she'd been making against him. But no, he doesn't get that, and it digs at him that this guy might.

The guy plants a soft barely there kiss to Regina's neck and fuck NO! He cannot watch this, cannot watch her with another man, but he also can't look away.

Her dress is riding up a lot, any farther and the whole club will see whatever she has on underneath. This bastard slides his hands to her legs and up and fuck this guy, he hates him. He doesn't know white shirt but hates him. Hates that this guy is allowed to touch Regina like that and that she likes it.

He's furious, so much so that he backs away from Emma and makes the drink motion. He needs to get away before he does something dumb. Something like punch the stupid smirk off of that guy's face.

He orders two whiskey shots, hopes the burning of them down into his stomach will quell his burning rage.

Who the fuck even is this guy? He's not with them, he didn't come with them, and that just makes him more mad for some reason. He watches them as he waits for his shots, and then downs both in 30 seconds. They help, for all of two seconds, and then he turns and watches as the fucker's hand slips up and up until he is groping Regina's crotch.

He sees her flinch, jump, and oh fuck, no! That asshole! He's crossing the room quickly—people moving the fuck out of his way when they see his expression—as the bastard tries to pull Regina back to him. Where the fuck are her friends? How are they letting this happen? He sees Mal pull Regina to her, about fucking time.

And shit he should make sure she's okay first but he's closer to the guy now, and he hears, "What a bitch. She was into it, wet for me and everything, such a slut. Bet she would have given it to me if her friends weren't here."

His fist connects with the side of the guy's jaw, and it hurts his hand but is _so satisfying_. What a fucking bastard, he doesn't get to touch women without their consent let alone shit talk. He lands one more punch before the guy reacts and tries to punch him back, but Robin's quicker, lands a third blow before a security guard grabs him and pulls him away.

Shit, he didn't think about that, and crap, Regina is glaring at him as the security guard kicks him out. God he hopes he hasn't ruined her birthday. He will just go home, it's fine, and pray this guy doesn't press charges, that's the last thing he needs.

The security guard lets him get his coat from coat check, and in the interim some of their party makes it downstairs and starts arguing with him, begging him to let Robin back. He tells them it's okay, but Killian keeps horribly pleading his case and manages to get himself, and everyone who came down with him, kicked out. Now it's not just him, it's Mal, Jefferson and fuck he didn't see her until now, Regina.

Ugh god, this night really couldn't get any worse could it. Mal talks the security guard into letting her go upstairs to tell everyone else as the rest of them get their coats and get escorted outside by a different guard.

"What. The. Fuck. Was. That?" Regina hisses and oh shit, is she ever pissed.

But why at him? He's not the one who touched her. "You can't let him do stuff like that?"

She throws her hands up, "Are you fucking kidding me? You think I _let him._ "

And oh shit no that's not what he meant. "No—"

"No, you shut up. I don't know what the fuck that was but _never_ do that _again_. You got it? I don't need you to fucking protect me. I can handle myself."

He's a right bastard for what he says next. "It didn't seem like it."

"Are you trying to get yourself hit?" she asks menacingly.

No he is not, he doesn't think the threat is serious but… "No god, I just… he shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah well you shouldn't have punched him and gotten yourself—oh and me too—kicked out."

"I'm sorry darling," he says reaching for her arm.

She flinches away with a, "Don't fucking touch me," and an, "I'm _not_ your darling."

Shit, shit he has cocked this all up with his stupid jealousy, dammit. "I'm sorry for both, what can I do to make it up to you?"

"Leave," she hisses venomously, "And take those two idiots with you too," she says pointing to Jefferson who's holding up a half passed out Killian. "It's a miracle they didn't get kicked out earlier."

"I will," He promises, and can't help but ask, "Are we okay though?"

She huffs, "Get it through your thick head there's no _we._ Jesus Robin, I didn't need saving, okay."

That hurts, twists him right in the gut but she's right, they aren't an item, she made that clear up front, and he's the idiot who agreed even with his feelings. She has every right to be mad but damn does she have a temper on her. He's only making things worse by talking to her, but he doesn't want to leave her alone. "I'll go as soon as Mal's out," he swears, and he will.

She surprises him when her response is, "Do you have a smoke?"

He almost raises an eyebrow because he wouldn't have expected that from her, but he's loathe to be on the receiving end of her temper again, so he tells her, "No, but I can get you one, one sec."

He gets two and a lighter from Jefferson. They stand leaning against the wall in silence as they smoke. He can see the pent up fury still bubbling under the surface, so he resists the urge to apologize more. When Mal and the rest of the group come down, he waves goodbye but doesn't speak.

Mal corners him as he's hailing a cab for him and Killian. "We're going back to my place instead."

He gestures to Killian, "I'm taking him home and then I'm going home."

She nods in understanding, "Brunch then, Granny's 11 am."

He starts to protest because Regina will not want to see him but Mal cuts him off, "She'll be fine by morning, trust me."

He's not so sure, but then there's a cab and Mal's helping him load Killian into it, so he lets it go. He realizes as their driving that it's a perfect excuse to contact her in the morning, to see where she's at and if she's still mad.

* * *

Regina's head is throbbing, her mouth tastes fucking disgusting, and her stomach is lurching. Why the hell is she awake? She can see the hint of sunlight coming in her window, and that's why. In her drunken state, she'd forgotten to close the blinds. She debates just laying here, rolling over squeezing her eyes shut tight and hoping that helps. All of her limbs are heavy, and her body has this overall ache and god why did she drink so much? She'd stopped after leaving Mal's the first time, hadn't had a drop more, and she felt soberish when she finally got home, thought that would ward off the hangover but no such luck.

There's an empty glass of water on her bedside table and a plate. She ordered pizza, she remembers that now, placed the order via the Dominos app when she was making her rounds to say goodbye to everyone who was left at Mal's. At least she ate something though, sadly, it didn't prevent this brutal hangover.

Her throat is so dry, she needs water, and a toothbrush, god does she ever need that. She sighs, resigning herself to moving for a little while. As she stands, she realizes she really, really has to pee.

She feels much more refreshed after her trip to the bathroom, she downed a whole glass of water and poured another, took an anti-inflammatory and one of her ginger pills to settle her stomach. She should probably eat something too, but the thought of that is a hard no right now.

She vaguely remembers making brunch plans, but she can't remember what time. She grabs her phone it's only 8 am, god, she went to bed around 3:30 am, this is too early. But she has no hope of getting back to sleep until the drugs kick in and she needs to know when to set her alarm for so checks the girls Facebook group chat. She sends a _What time is brunch message?_ And then realizes everyone is probably asleep.

Surprisingly Kathryn messages back, _11_.

She thanks her, sets her alarm for 10 and settles on her left side which helps the nausea a bit, or maybe that's the drugs kicking in. In any event, she finds herself slowly nodding off.

She groans when her alarm wakes her, but she feels so much better. She's still a little achy, a little sluggish has a slight tinge of a headache but nothing like how she felt when she first woke up. Her shower helps immensely with that, and she feels almost normal when she gets out.

Her phone is lit up with messages when she grabs for it, a skim tells her that the plan was made while she was showering and Zelena is picking everyone up. She's getting picked up in 25 minutes which is just enough time to dry her hair.

She also has a text from Robin, and when she sees his name, she remembers with a flash of mortification her horrendous behaviour the night before, yelling at him in the street. Definitely not her finest moment. God, she was such a bitch. She was thrown from that guy, and her jealousy over him and Emma and she took it out on him, publically, embarrassingly. It was horrible of her, and she is absolutely mortified. God, she is just terrible to him, why is she like that?

She expects his text to be angry, but it's not, _Hey, I hope you are feeling okay. I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, Mal invited me to brunch last night, but with what happened I didn't want to come without clearing it with you first._

She smiles like an idiot, he's so sweet. She doesn't deserve it not after how she treated him. The sweetness, that is why she got jealous, and she can admit it now, it was jealousy. She needs to be more clear with the boundaries, he can't be sleeping over, that messed with her head. She can do casual, she can, she might just have a couple of hit and miss moments, and that's fine, she'll work through them.

 _Yeah, I am so sorry about last night. I don't know what to say, all those birthday shots were a bit much for me, and I feel awful. Come to brunch, we'd love to have you :)_

As soon as she ends it, she curses herself for that love. They'd _love_ to have him, what is she saying.

Thankfully he doesn't comment on that, _Sweet I'll see you in a bit then._

He accepts her apology, her mistakes so easily and it's so lovely. As much as she doesn't want to keep fucking up, it's so refreshing to have someone not hold her mistakes against her.

Brunch goes off without a hitch, they have a much bigger crowd than usual, but Mal had called ahead and warned Granny they'd be at least ten. Granny had wisely set aside a table for 16 that fit their group perfectly. It's rare they actually see Granny, she only works during the week, but though Regina keeps forgetting it actually is Friday. It feels like a Saturday because she has no class, but it's not.

There's a ton of coffee and reminiscing and jokes about the night before. Several conversations go on at once, and Regina finds herself aimlessly listening, but not really contributing.

That is until Granny takes their order and Zelena orders the Simple Breakfast, two eggs with toast, sausage and homefries, not her usual Western Omelette with a side of tater tots. Zelena always gets the same thing. It makes Regina suspicious and then she realizes last night was Thursday, and that was always Zelena's work night. She won't have Zelena getting something she doesn't want because it's cheaper because Regina cost her a night of tips at her part-time job.

So when it comes her time to order she tells Granny she's paying Zelena's bill, and that Zelena will actually have the Western Omelette.

Zelena waits until Granny has left and then hisses, "What are you doing?"

"You lost a night of work because of me, it's the least I could do."

Zelena sighs, "I didn't actually, I quit. They gave me that time off for exams and hired a temp. I told them to keep her, it was too hard to do that and school."

This is news to her but she thinks back through January and sure enough Zelena never once mentioned work. "And you're okay?"

Zelena nods, "Yeah just have to stick to a stricter budget, but I'll manage."

She thinks not for the first time how unfair it is that her mother pays for her to be here, for her apartment and a more than substantial living allowance but Cora refuses to give anything to Zelena. She knows Cora legally owes Zelena nothing, she gave her up and that really her mother's money is actually her father's, but still, it feels so wrong.

"If you need anything…"

Zelena shakes her head, "I'll be fine, thanks for breakfast sis."

She's insistent, "If that changes."

"It won't," Zelena says and then joins a conversation to her left, turning her head away from Regina.

She takes the hint and does the same, jumping into Mal and Robin's conversation about best coffee places around campus.

* * *

They are supposed to be doing work, cranking out this factum but since Mal came over all they've done is made coffee and sit. They need to do some work today, but in a minute, this is nice, sitting talking just the two of them.

It's allowing her to admit, "God I was a such a bitch to him Mal I just remember being so mad but not because he punched that guy, that did make me mad but it was really about Emma. I was _awful,_ and he accepted my apology, but he shouldn't have."

Mal waves that off, "Yes he should have, you were very drunk and punching that guy was very stupid."

"Mal I threatened to hit him. Who does that?"

Mal purses her lips, "Would you have? Like really truly would you have hit him."

She huffs, "Of course not, what kind of a person do you think I am?"

"That was my point, yes threatening is bad but if he knows you like I do he'd know you weren't serious. Don't take this as a free pass to say things like that, threats of violence aren't cool but… there were _extenuating circumstances_."

She frowns, "That doesn't excuse what I did."

"That guy sexually assaulted you," whoa whoa, no, no, that's not what happened. "Give yourself a little credit for what you did after."

"It wasn't a sexual assault," she hisses, "He didn't… that's not—"

"We just covered this in crim on Monday. What is the legal definition of a sexual assault?"

Her mind supplies, non-consensual acts of a sexual nature such that the sexual integrity of the victim is violated. She remembers vividly Belfry's example of grabbing a woman's boob without her consent and how that legally would be considered sexual assault. But it's not… she shakes her head because she just can't. One club grope is not the same as rape, it's just not, and she's okay, she shook it off, it's no big deal. Yes, it freaked her right out in the moment but that was then, and she's fine now.

When she doesn't answer Mal stares and waits, it starts to make her uncomfortable, so she says, "I don't see it that way can we drop it?"

"But Regina it is, and you should talk about it, at least tell me how you feel. Are you okay?"

She sighs because she doesn't want to talk about it, but she also doesn't want Mal worrying "I'm fine really, shit happens, I shook it off, no big deal."

"But is a big deal, some guys think they can just do that, and it's not okay."

"And what was I supposed to do exactly?" her voice is colder than she intended but god, what else could she have done?

"It's not… I'm not blaming you, at all. I'm just frustrated that assholes like that get away with things like that because we've been conditioned to accept the 'minor' sexual transgressions."

She gets where Mal's coming from she does. "I mean Robin got in some good punches so…"

Mal arches a brow and concedes, "True. But still, I hate that in our society right now most people think it's okay or at least not a crime for that to happen. The law on its face is on our side, but in practice it's not. Because of institutionalized patriarchy and implicit bias—and I hate myself for using this word but—smaller acts of sexual assault are not taken seriously. Hell even the truly horrible stuff look at the unfounded rate, it's disgusting."

She nods solemnly because it's true, the justice system fails victims of sexual violence, there's no getting around that, just like it fails racial minorities and indigenous people. That's part of why she could never practice criminal law, the system is so messed up, and she doesn't believe in it at all. As law students, they are in such a position of privilege, relatively that is, but they can't make a systemic change no matter how much they might want to.

She vents with a, "It's frustrating to be able to see clearly deficiencies in the system and have no power to rectify them."

"I know. On the one hand, I feel like we really progressed but when you look at how far we have to go… it's…" Mal sighs and shrugs.

It's sad it really is, a real downer, and that's not going to help them get in the zone as much as these conversations are essential to have if things are going to change.

They sit in silence for a second and then Mal speaks slowly and hesitantly, which is so unlike her. "I have something to… confess." That sets alarm bells off in Regina's head, but she waits, lets Mal say what she needs to say in her own time.

She reaches across the table and grabs Mal's hand with a, "Take all the time you need."

"It's just… I'm fine, it's under control but um, I did coke last night, and it's um, not the first time in law school."

Regina sucks in a breath because, shit. Mal's saying it's not a big deal, but Regina remembers vividly Mal's last slide into her addiction. It was scary, and for a little while, she was worried she would never get her friend back. But Mal got clean, got sober, goes to meetings (or at least she did). She knows she has to trust Mal when she says she's okay, but she's a little scared. "I'm worried."

Mal squeezes Regina's hand, "You don't need to be, seriously, it's not like before. But even still, I'm wary, and so I'm not going to do it anymore, why play with fire right?"

She laughs awkwardly because what else is there to do.

Mal urges, "Seriously, I'm okay. I wanted you to know because you are my best friend and you know my history, but you do _not_ need to be worried. I'm still in therapy, and it's not going to be an issue."

That makes her feel a bit better, still concerned but she's not a professional, what really can she do? Mal has the help she needs, and she's using it which is all Regina can ask for.

Still, though she remembers finding Mal passed out, and that time she disappeared for a while—Regina had been biting her nails the whole time, worried she overdosed somewhere and her eyes well up as she chokes out, "D-on't ever scare me like the last time again okay?"

A tear falls, and Mal stands up and hugs her as she promises, "I won't little one, I promise."

She stands so they can really hug as she tries to push away the worry. Mal is handling it with a professional, that's all she can really ask for. They talk and joke to break the mood and then settle at their computers with fresh coffee about 20 minutes later.

Regina checks her email before they start and is flabbergasted when she an email from Bennett Jones that they intend to call her on Call Day, next Friday at 8am. She lets out a little surprised sound as she wraps her head around the fact that she will have at least one interview over reading week. She could cry from the relief because she was very apprehensive she would have none and god, breaking that news to her mother would have been horrendous.

"I take it that went better for you than me." Mal deadpans, and Regina blushes. It's a good thing it's Mal because telling her is rubbing salt in the wound, but Mal would never let her feel bad about her success.

"Yeah um I got Bennett Jones."

Mal smiles, "Oh good I mean, fuck them and Davies for rejecting me," Regina laughs she got that one too on Wednesday. "But… kill it for the both of us okay."

She smirks, "I can do that, and hey they both don't know what they are missing."

Mal chuckles, "Isn't that the truth." God she loves Mal, how everything just falls off her back. This thing didn't work out, well whatever onto the next thing. She longs to be like that but growing up with Cora Mills as a mother continually berating you for every missed opportunity for every failure, it doesn't lend itself to that. Someday though, she wants to be like that.

* * *

Robin is so relieved, John broke up with Merida, drove up to see her Thursday night and _finally_ ended it. He's so happy, but his friend is miserable, and that part makes him unhappy. John said he wanted to be alone and Robin respects that, but John is blasting Adele, and it is driving him absolutely bananas. He's not going to ask him to stop, because John deserves to get to do whatever he needs to help him through this breakup. But god if he hears "Rolling In the Deep" one more time he might lose it.

He needs to get out of here, because he is determined to be a good friend to John, be there for him, but if he hears that song again, he's going to lose it, which is definitely not conducive to being a good friend.

He decides to go to the library, he should do his readings. He doesn't want to, wants to take a lazy Saturday yet again, but he needs to get out of the damn apartment and might as well do some work while he's at it.

Of course, because he doesn't want to do work he distracts himself on social media for a half an hour before finally opening his torts textbook.

He ends up texting Regina and asking what she's up to halfway through the chapter because seeing her would be a much better use of his time then this half-assed not retaining anything reading he's doing.

It turns out she's still working on her factum. He's bummed until she follows it up with: _You could come over if you wanted, we could study until we are brain fried._

He can help but flirt back: _And then what? ;)_

 _I do believe I have some terrible actions to make up for ;)_

He chuckles to himself, he loves when she flirts back.

 _Is that so, well conveniently I also have some birthday gifts I haven't given yet_ he adds three of those smirky devil emojis and hopes she knows what he means.

 _What kind of gifts?_ She asks with a smirky face that suggests she knows exactly what he means.

He could play dumb, but he's also curious how far he can go.

 _Pleasurable ones, everyone deserves birthday sex, and it's been two days, and I have yet to deliver_

He is delighted when she responds with: _Well then you'd better make it special ;)_

He needs to be careful here, as much as he's enjoying this he is in the school library, and he can't get too excited. Still, he can't help but ask: _Any requests?_ He follows it up with: _Also is it cool if I head over?_

She answers his second question, and he regrets sending them like that.

 _Yeah come on over, doors unlocked just walk in, I'm in the dining room._

He's putting his stuff into his bag when his phone vibrates again.

 _As for requests you intrigued me with your comment after you rifled through my nightstand_

For a second he's confused, but then he remembers spying her vibrators and promising they would have some fun with them at a later date. He can't think about that too much, or he will have an issue, so he tries to focus on anything else. Of course, it doesn't really work, and all he can picture is railing on her from behind, getting her right there with just his cock and then pressing it to her clit and making her come hard, not letting her have a break, so she comes again. And shit it's so hot, too hot, if he's not careful he's going to pop a boner on his way out of the law library.

It's cold out which helps keep his body in check and gives him the courage to text back.

 _You want to have some fun with your vibrator?_

She doesn't respond for several minutes until he's almost at her house. He's glad he checks it before he gets there because it says: _God yes, but I really need to do a little more so we need to focus first, fun after._

He can understand that and lord knows he's used the prospect of sex to motivate himself so if she wants to do it who is he to stop her.

She's unbelievably gorgeous he walks in—he feels a little weird just walking in but she told him to so he ignores it—all dressed down in yoga pants, and a sweatshirt, her tied hair up, the way he imagines only those closest to her get to see her. She gives him a quick smile and gestures to the chairs around the table before frantically typing.

When her fingers stop flying, she says, "Sorry, I just wanted to get that thought down before I lost it. Can I get you anything?"

He shakes his head, he's good.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat or drink?"

He resists the urge to tell her the only thing he wants to eat is her because she looks delectable, all chilled out and relaxed in her comfy clothes. He's seen her in far sexier, like god that dress on her birthday, but something about the intimacy of her sharing this look with him has him even hotter for her than that skimpy black dress.

"No I'm good, I'll just, um, work on torts until it's time to satisfy… other appetites."

She flushes at that, bites her lip and tells him, "Mmm can't wait, but I think we can get a solid two hours of work in, don't you?"

She asks it so innocently he's at a little bit of a loss as to how to respond. He thinks he could break her easily, but they both have work they could be doing so he can wait. "Yeah, that sounds good."

She smiles and then goes back to writing before frowning which makes him ask, "Something wrong?"

She sighs, "This factum doesn't seem very good, if I were them I would have made different arguments, and I'm responding to theirs, but I feel like I'm leaving holes."

"Do you want to read ours? I don't know that it's any better but…"

"Oh my god yes please!" She tempers her enthusiasm, "I mean only if you don't mind sharing, everyone I'm close with is a respondent like Mal and I."

"I offered," he reminds gently, "Should I send it to both of you?" He asks as he sets up his laptop.

"Yes please, thank you, that's really helpful."

He smiles and can't resist a flirty, "You can make it up to me later."

* * *

And boy does she ever. Regina's never been vocal about her desire, she gives direction in the midst, isn't afraid to take charge to ensure her pleasure which he loves, but outside of their vague fantasies talk she's never been explicit about what she wants.

Until now.

It started with some footsie while she wrote, his brow arching as she smirked but said nothing.

When her foot stopped, she opened her mouth, started telling him how she'd been dreaming about him using her vibrator on her and how she couldn't wait to feel him inside her and it on her clit.

She'd climbed onto his lap, kissed him soundly as she whispered, "God I want you to take me from behind, just like the last time, with me up on my knees, back to your chest. That angle was— _mmm_ —so good."

His tongue trailed along her jaw, but he had stopped to ask, "Anything else?"

He groaned when she responded with, "Mmm _yes_ —oh god like that—I want—mmm—"

He probably was not helping things by grinding into her, cupping her tits in his hands while he kissed her neck but he wanted her, so badly, and so he couldn't help it.

"You want what?" He asked as he tugged at her sweatshirt. She helped him get it off, and he groaned when he learns she was shirtless and braless underneath it. Thank god he didn't know that before or no work would have been done.

He wanted to take her tits in his mouth, but he also wanted to know what she wanted so settled for trailing kisses along her collarbone.

" _Ahh yes,_ want you to fuck me like that and then— _Uhh_ —and press my vibrator to my clit, so I come _so hard_."

And now here they are and her request is exactly what he wants too, but he can't focus too hard on that, not with how she's grinding against him, or he'll make a mess of himself. He is so hard for her, the ache in his cock growing with every rock of her against him. He's not close, not yet, but he could be, easily. He shifts his hands under her and hoists her up a bit so he can pepper her chest with kisses before descending on pert nipples and sucking hard. The sound she lets out as he nibbles at her is so erotic he has to bite back his own moan in response. She's just _so hot,_ everything about her is tantalizing and knowing that's she's been dreaming about this, maybe even getting herself off to it has his need growing exponentially.

He imagines it for a second her working herself with said vibrator while imaging him doing it and his cock throbs. Fuck he cannot wait.

He bites and sucks at her tits as she writhes and moans. When his arms start to get tired (and far too soon he really needs to get back to the gym) he rasps, "Let's go upstairs."

She nods, standing but kissing him while she does. He stands too and groans as she sucks on his tongue. She's so fucking sexy, everything about her, and she's so fucking hot like this, open, free, going after what she wants. He loves it, would give her anything she asks for, so loves that's she's getting more open about what she wants.

As they make their way up the stairs trading gropes and kisses he remembers the last time he was here, how he was in control of her orgasm, how she gave him that power willingly, how into she was, how sexy it was. He had thought she would break as he relentlessly pushed her toward the orgasm he had forbidden, but she had more resolve than he realized. It made him push her harder, and she had _loved it_. That was easily one of the hottest sexual encounters he'd ever had in his life, her begging him for it as he riled her up more and more. He wants more, wants full control, to tie her up, blindfold her and have his wicked way with her, but that's for another night.

Before she sits onto the bed, she strips off her yoga pants leaving just a light grey thong that's already darkened with a wet patch that makes him swallow hard. He needs to last, needs to be in control so he can make this mindblowing, but he's about ten good thrusts from blowing his load. He needs to calm down, but also rile her up.

"Can you show me, darling?" He asks as he pulls off his shirt and pants leaving him straining in his boxers. He belatedly remembers how she'd reacted to that on Thursday night but she doesn't protest so maybe it's okay. Instead, she _Hmm_ s, and he kisses her before he responds, can't help it, needs to feel her for a second. The kiss is lust filled, pent up and desperate. Their tongues tease and tangle, and they both sigh as best they can while still kissing. His thumb fiddles with a nipple, and she breaks out of the kiss.

He leans to kiss her tits again and remembers to respond, "Show me how you like it, what setting you'd use, get yourself right there for me and then I'll fuck you."

She moans, but that might be because of the way his one hand twists a nipple as his mouth sucks firmly at the other. He switches because they should get equal treatment. By the time he's done that wet spot on her thong has grown, which he is far too pleased about.

He asks again, "Will you show me?" but this time keeps his hands and his mouth to himself.

He moans when she lets out an enthusiastic "Yes," and reaches into her bedside drawer. There were two vibrators in there that he remembers for sure and he wonders which one she'll pick.

He moans again when it's the small wand, and she bares herself entirely to him. She is so wet, so hot and ready for him, her clit hard and swollen. He's aching for stimulation on his cock, but he will wait it out, let that sweet ache grow and grow and she gives him a little show. He wants to bury his face in her sex, bring her up with his tongue, it doesn't look like it would take much.

But then she turns on the vibrator and nope there is nowhere else he would rather be. He watches in awe as she runs it down her stomach to where she really wants it. Watches intently as her muscles jump in anticipation as she guides it lower and lower.

They both moan when it hits her clit and then she stops teasing herself, starting rubbing her vibrator up and down rubbing over her clit with loud exultant moans that are so bloody hot he has to stroke himself through his boxers even though he's trying to calm down.

Though he knows what a temptress she is it never fails to overwhelm him when she really turns it on like she is now. Her one hand is playing with her nipple as her head is thrown back, seductive moans falling from her lips and the vibrator strums over her clit.

Her hips buck and she moans. Is she… "Don't come," he tells her just in case, and she brings her eyes to his.

"I'm—Mm—not quite there yet. Want you to fuck me _so bad._ Please, please fuck me."

And okay yeah he's done playing games. He closes the distance between them, crashes his lisp to her, pulling her hair out of that ponytail so he can thread his hands through it.

The vibrator falls onto the bed still buzzing as he urges her to flip. He grabs a condom from the drawer, sheathes himself and takes a second to view her perfect ass—and give it a slap because she likes it and god so does he.

She pants out a "Please," when he slaps her again, and yes he will give her what she wants because it's what he is aching for also.

But first, he's going to drive her up a bit. He thrusts two fingers into her. She is so wet and clenches on his fingers, letting out an "Ahh," when he hits just the right spot. He thumps against that spot relentlessly, slaps her ass again as she moans and falls down onto her elbows. He reaches for her vibrator, and he feels her shudder with anticipation when she realizes his intent.

She spasms around his fingers when he presses it to her clit and lets out a high pitched keening moan that's unbearably sexy. This whole thing is so erotic, her entrusting him with her pleasure like this.

"Fuck close," she pants, and he smirks as her thighs start to tremble. He feels her grow tighter and tighter against his fingers. When she is right there, about to spill over, he drops the vibrator onto the bed.

She whimpers, and he chuckles, he takes a sort of sadistic pleasure in denying her this way, in pushing her right to the edge and then denying her. It's hot, and he knows she likes it too, which only makes it hotter.

He presses his fingers more firmly against that spot, and she lets out a sharp pleasured, "Oh fuck!" that goes right to his cock. He only makes it a minute or so more before she begs, "God, please fuck me, fuck please I—Mmm—would do—Ahh—anything, p-please," and his need overwhelms him.

He pulls his soaked fingers from her, grabs her waist firmly and slides into her with no resistance. They both moan as he sinks in, she feels so damn good, her tight wet heat wrapping around him as he lets out another. He thrusts once then twice, fiddles around with the angle and his one hand slides across her waist, bracing her against him so she can fit comfortably in the position she requested.

She clenches on him and _moans_ when he hits just right, gasps a "Fuck yes," and "like that," so he fucks her hard and deep right there as her moans grow more and more high pitched.

God does it ever feel _good_ , she is so tight and so wet, but he's not quite at the end of his tether despite how good it is and how hot she sounds, so he keeps fucking her at this hard pace relishing in the way her body spasms around him. He's giving her nothing on her clit, just building her, until he grabs that vibe and lets it all explode. It won't take long once he grabs it, she's so close, he can feel her tight against his cock, how badly she needs to come. It makes his need grow even more, knowing that he has her so close and all it would take is one action from him to make her come. He's in total control and it's hot as hell.

"Oh fuck, I might—oh god, oh god."

She's curling in on herself as he asks, "Might what."

She barely pants out, "Going to c-c-come," before her pussy grows even tighter and spasms rhythmically around him as she hollers her pleasure. She's never gotten off without something on her clit before with him and he has to bite his cheek not to follow her. Knowing that she's coming from him, that it's just his cock that's making her gasp, shout and tighten on him it's unbelievably hot. He's aching to come, to let it all out like she is. The only thing keeping him going is he knows he can get one more. He slows a little as she comes down giving them both a breather. He won't make it much longer at that pace and he wants to feel her come on him again. When her breath grows less ragged and the tightness in his groin starts to subside, he grabs for the vibrator, pressing it to her as he resumes that pace that had them both climbing the walls.

It works, she cries out and spasms around him, encouraging him to take her harder so he does.

"That's it babe, fucking come on me, I can feel how badly you need it, let it all out."

She grabs onto his arm blindly, nails digging in as she wails and tightens around him. She comes with a scream that brings him down with her. He surrenders to the waves of pleasure radiating out from his cock as she flutters around him. He spurts and spurts, emptying himself into the condom as he is filled with blessed release. His orgasm seems to last forever, which is good because she's still spasming around him when the wave crests and he starts to come down. He goes motionless and she sighs with pleasure as he slowly softens inside her. As they catch their breath he presses kisses to every exposed part of her skin he can reach.

"Holy fucking god that was… oh… so good," she pants leaning her head back onto his shoulder. And yes it really was.

" _So_ good," he echos and then slips out of her with a sigh, set on discarding the condom. When he turns back to face her, she's lying on the bed stretched out and blissed out. She beckons for him to join and he delights when she cuddles up in his arm.

He must make a face because she makes an excuse, "You're warm."

Getting under the covers would fix that issue if she really was cold, but he's not about to make that comment and lose out on this. So he says nothing and instead, plants a kiss to her hair.

"Do you often study at the library?" she asks, turning her head so she can look at him.

"No only if I need to get out of the house."

She frowns, "Did something happen with John?"

He knows what she thinks, "Yes but not with us, he broke up with Merida, finally and he's a bit down and mopey. And I don't mind that they were together for a year and a half and he was so good to be after Marian, and I broke up."

"I'm sensing a but…"

He huffs a little laugh, "It's just he's blaring break up music, and then he put 'Rolling In the Deep' on repeat and don't get me wrong, Adele has a lovely voice, but it was too much. But that's what he's decided he needs and I'm not going to stop him."

"You're a good friend." He is, he knows that but this isn't exactly a shining moment of that. He's saved from saying anything when she continues, "I, um, haven't been, at least to you, and I'm sorry. I can get a bit intense and too focused on school and anyway I just wanted you to know if you need someone you can always talk to me."

He cannot hide the grin that blooms on his face, but he's genuinely touched. He's thought they'd been getting closer, but he can never quite tell what she's thinking or feeling. He tends to read too much into it all, project feeling onto her that she doesn't have and so it's nice to know that in this respect he wasn't wrong.

"Thank you, darling" he says and then flinches, fuck he can't help it, it just slips out, she hadn't minded it in the throws but then she'd been distracted so…

She's looking at him quizzically probably confused by his reaction so he bites the bullet and asks, "Does it bother you?"

Her brow arches for a second and he can tell when she realizes what he means, "Oh, god fuck I'm sorry that was… It doesn't bother me. I, fuck—"

He saves her the trouble by continuing what he was saying before he got distracted by his use of a pet name, "Anyway what I was going to say was that the same goes for you, if you ever have something you want to get off your chest. I'm just a text or call away."

She smiles up at him in a way that takes his breath away. "You are too good to me."

He shakes his head and then lowers his face and presses a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, "I'm not, you are so smart, dedicated, passionate, fiery, and so sexy." He wants to say more, but he's probably already said too much, so he leaves it that before he scares her off.

"Fiery eh, that's a nice way to frame my horrible temper."

He shrugs and tells her honestly, "We both made mistakes that night, and I'd rather just move on."

"Mmm, I'd like that," she says and then kisses him softly. They trade slow kisses until they start to spin out and he grabs for her vibrator again.

She arches her brow and asks, "Again?" as he kisses down her neck delighting in the shiver that runs down her spine.

"Two orgasms is hardly birthday worthy darling," he tells her with a smirk and then gets to work.

After when they are both satiated and sweaty, lying cuddled up on top of the covers again, she yawns quietly. She snuggles closer into him, shivers slightly and admits, "I'm cold and um, tired too."

He knows what she's getting at without her spelling it out. Normally her insistence he doesn't spend the night bothers him, but he needs to go home and check on John. Still, he kisses her a couple more times before he gets up in search of his clothes.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading hope you liked it :)**


	7. February II

Regina looks stressed, he sees her enter their torts class and she's late, for her, there are only five minutes before their class starts. Her face is flushed and not just from the weather, he thinks she was running. She nearly drops her laptop as she unloads her stuff. They are friends, their conversation the other night made that clear, so though there are only like three minutes until class is supposed to start, he decides to go see her. Professor Gepetto tends to arrive a little late, although he looks like a cute grandfather he's smart as a whip, but also very kind and good to talk to. Robin went to his office once after class, and after his question was answered ended up chatting about woodworking, of all things, for a half an hour. Robin's half convinced the reason Professor Gepetto often strolls in five minutes after the start of class is because he knows no matter what he does some students will always be late, and can't be bothered to wait for them.

He asks Ruby to watch his stuff, and to save a spot for John, then makes his way down to the front row.

He startles Regina when he slides into the seat beside her, and asks, "Everything okay?"

She sighs, "It will be, this factum is stressing me out and well… this is the first class I've ever come to where I didn't finish the readings."

He raises his eyebrows because wow, he knows it takes a lot for her not to get her stuff done, but also every else he knows has done that many times. "We've all been there."

She gives him a half-assed smile. "I haven't, but it's one class, and I only have three more cases to read." His brows go up again because she's freaking out about a couple cases when she's done the bulk of the reading already, it's just so… Regina. It's cute, and he can't help but smile at her ridiculousness.

She notes his amusement, and the corners of her lips twitch as she continues. "I just don't know whether to finish them tonight, or move on to the property and constitutional readings for tomorrow. I could go back, but will I?"

"It's up to you darling. What's going to stress you out less?"

She chews her lip anxiously, and admits, "I don't know, but I need to work on our factum for a while, then by the time I get to them it will be like eight or nine, and I should try to get some sleep, but maybe I should stay up push through. I don't know."

"Hey, hey, it's okay, you need to breathe and relax a bit," He watches as she takes in a breath, which seems to stop her spiralling, "At least half of this class has not done any of today's readings, and it will be the same tomorrow. You could just not do readings this week, and be fine. Don't give up sleep for it, being sleep deprived will only stress you out more."

She nods, and sighs, "You are right, thank you, really Robin, that helped a lot."

He smiles broadly, "Anytime, and hey, if you start to get all worked up again feel free to shoot me a message. I'm happy to talk you down anytime."

"You really are—"

"Mr. Locksley that's a new spot," Professor Gepetto remarks, giving a sly look down at the desk and his lack of notes.

"Just chatting Professor."

"Well, you have about one minute until I start this lecture."

He nods and then gives Regina a quick smile before rushing back to his actual seat. John hasn't shown up, and he can't say he's surprised. When he went to bed around midnight, John was still up rewatching "The Office" with pizza, chips and beer. That second case of beer they had bought, but he had not touched, and there was only one left when Robin opened the fridge this morning. He takes extra care with his class notes, so they are (hopefully) a good substitute for John not attending. He gets that John needs to take some time to wallow, and he's going to do whatever he can to make sure John doesn't miss out on anything in the interim.

He catches Regina at the break, and again after class. Perhaps it's a little pushy, but she doesn't seem to mind. He gets her to linger talking with him, for a good ten minutes, before she sighs, and bides him goodbye.

As he walks back from class he brainstorms ways to cheer John up. Killian and the hockey guys are taking him to a strip club on Thursday, which Robin had reluctantly agreed to. It's not that he doesn't like strip clubs, that's not it at all, but first off, this is smaller town, and there's all of one strip club that only just reopened after having the city deny its license renewal and second, he doesn't think distracting himself with naked women is going to help John.

John hasn't wanted to talk about it, but he needs to. He can distract himself all he wants, but he's not going to get over it until he lets himself feel the hurt. Robin doesn't want to push, but he also doesn't want to be too passive, it's a delicate balance, and he's not sure he's doing the right thing.

Maybe he'll try to talk to John tonight, if he isn't occupied, at least offer himself as someone to talk to should John want it. He gets more determined to do that as he walks home. By the time he's reached the door he's convinced himself to just say that up front.

Then he walks in, and he hears John say, in a sickly sweet tone, "Oh it's okay honey it's just Robin."

Who the fuck is John talking to in _that tone_?

He trips over something on his way into the living room, then all he sees is a little black flash rush into John's bedroom.

"Aw man you scared her," is all John says as Robin tries to wrap his head around what just happened.

"Her?"

"Her name is Mary."

"Mary? As in the virgin."

John laughs, and he wonders if he's drunk, "No as in festive and happy." Like Merida, his brain fills it, but he ignores that implication because…

"Can we back up for a second Merry is…?"

"A kitten."

It's then he notices the cat bed and litter box in the corner. He frowns and comments, "Perhaps her bed shouldn't be near the litter."

John nods, "Yeah probably right, now come sit, and let's see if we can get her back out."

His mind is still reeling over the fact that John got a cat—and without consulting him, it's not that he minds per se, they'd talked about wanting a pet, but he'd thought it was the type of desire that would remain unfulfilled. What's going to happen over the summer, is John going to take her? His mind is reeling with questions, but he settles on. "Where did you get her?"

"So that's the craziest thing, when I went to get the beer on Sunday there's that pet store beside it, and I decided to go in before getting the beer. And there she was, all small and cute, and I wanted her. So I asked the person working, and they gave me an application. They called today to say I was approved and could take her home."

He's a little off put by the fact that John applied to adopt a cat on Sunday, and didn't bother to tell him, but really that's neither here nor there anymore. The fact is they now have a kitten, and one that is apparently scared of him, how excellent.

"Go grab her treats from the kitchen, and shake the bag, that should get her out."

He does, finds the bag of Friskies Temptations and gives the bag a firm shake. He hears this cute little rolling mew, and in runs the tiniest little black kitten he's ever seen in his life. He lays out some treats, and she devours them, then brushes against his leg, cooing happily. He reaches down tentatively, careful not scare her, but it seems now that he's provided treats she's deemed him safe. She lets him pick her up, and god, is she ever cute. She is so small, can't be more than three pounds, he bets she's barely bigger than John's large hand.

He holds her in one hand while his other pets her super soft fur. She starts to crawl onto his shoulder purring, and he ducks awkwardly, flattening his upper back as best he can, while she crawls across the back of his neck to the other side. She bats at his ear and scares him, so he jerks, then all he feels is claws dig into his skin as John's laugh bellows. He grabs her then, before she falls and hurts herself, setting her lightly down onto the floor.

She runs so fast into the living room she slides when she tries to stop, and oh my, she is going to be quite the handful. But she is cute as fuck, so he can't say that he minds.

She whines at his legs when he's studying later, so he picks her up and sets her on his lap. She pops up onto the desk, walks all over his book, sniffing out every inch of his desk. He watches her the whole time, completely distracted from his Constitutional readings because she is too adorable not to watch. When she's done with the desk she coils up on his lap and falls asleep. He reluctantly gets back to work, stealing glances down at the cuteness every couple of paragraphs.

* * *

She and Mal are on pace to finish this thing by Thursday night, and thank god, because she is sick of it. She's behind on almost all of her readings, which really is not ideal, but it seems like it's going to be worth it. She and Mal are on the same page, are trying to make this the best it can be and put in all the time they can. Apart from one little disagreement about how to blend their very different writing styles (aka whose style they would use), it's been smooth sailing. They work well together, and they've been editing each other's work for years now, so there's a comfort and a familiarity. Plus, she knows Mal will tell her if anything she says is stupid or unclear, as she would for her, and neither of them will end up with hurt feelings.

If only that were the case for Kathryn and Zelena. She's been getting texts from both of them for about a week now, complaining about the other. She's tried to be sympathetic and understanding to both without giving an opinion either way. It's tough to balance because they are both her friends, and she does not want to be in the middle of this, but they seem intent on putting her there as the tension grows and grows.

Kathryn came over last night for a study date that turned into an hour of her bitching about how Zelena hadn't put any of her arguments in their shared document yet, and had written the "most convoluted facts section known to man." Kathryn had asked Regina for her opinion on the comments she was making on Zelena's work—she didn't want to be too mean—so Regina had helped her frame them, and it's a choice she now vehemently regrets.

Zelena's sensitive, they all know that, and hadn't taken kindly to Kathryn's edits. From what Regina understands Kathryn and Zelena ended up in a quite heated spat over them, during which Kathryn let it slip that Regina also thought Zelena's work was terrible. So lucky her, not only does she have Kathryn texting her looking for sympathy, but Zelena is also on her case, and mad at her for taking Kathryn's side.

She ends up texting Mal, who is apparently also getting the low down from both of them, so they divide and conquer. Regina has to take Zelena, because thanks to Kathryn she now has to explain herself, and also she's a little ticked at Kathryn for spilling that, so it's best anyway.

But it means she's stuck listening to Zelena bitch at her for taking Kathryn's side when that's not at all what happened. She lets Zelena get it all out before she comments, "Do you want to hear my side or not?"

She sighs, "What's there to tell, I'm fucking stupid and you agreed."

That's what this is about. She should have known. "Zelena you aren't stupid that's not what I think, and that's not what Kathryn thought either. She was trying to avoid this, so she asked for my help about how to correct it, that's all. Nobody thinks you are stupid."

"Maybe you should."

Huh? "Zelena what are you talking about?"

"I suck at law, okay, and Kathryn is fucking smart like you, and I don't want to let her down, I'm trying, but I am failing."

"You aren't failing—"

"I am though, I actually failed two of my exams, and my best grade right now is a seventy. I should have dropped out… I'm awful at this. Why am I bothering wasting money when I'm so terrible at it."

She feels awful because she had no idea Zelena was feeling this way, "You aren't terrible and okay things didn't go as well as you wanted, but that doesn't mean you can't turn it around. I'll help you, in any way I can okay, and Kathryn wants to help too, that's all she was trying to do."

Zelena's shoulders slump, "I just feel like I can't do anything right, and sometimes it feels like what's the point. I work constantly, you know I'm at the library almost every night, and for what? I could barely keep up last semester, and now it's even worse. I'm so slow…"

"Is that why you quit your job?"

She nods, "Yeah, I was struggling last semester, and when I saw how much bigger the workload was this semester I knew there was no way. They were really nice about it, but it sucks because I am fucking broke, not that I have time to spend money anyway, but… and I hate my roommates they are all disgusting, and they play music and party and wake me up. I can't remember the last time I got a good night's sleep. The rare time I can fall asleep at a decent hour one of them sets the damn smoke detector off or starts blasting rap. I-I can't take it anymore," her breath hitches and a tear falls that she brushes away, "but I can't afford to move, so I'm stuck. The place is so gross right now, but I'm the only one who cleans, and I'm sick of it so I stopped, but now it's a pig sty, so I'm going to have to clean it before I go insane. My whole fucking life is a mess and I c-an't."

Regina scoots closer, rubs her hand down Zelena's back, "Stay here tonight, get a good night's sleep. Mal has my extra key just in case, but I'll get you one made, you can crash here anytime, and I mean that. Just text me a heads up, but seriously even if I'm asleep that bed is yours okay." Zelena sniffles and nods. "And I'll help you with school if I can, have you talked to admin, you can't be the only person this has ever happened to?"

"I have, and I'm not. They gave me some tips, and said I had nothing to worry about, but I still am, worried that is. I feel like I made a big mistake. I can barely afford to be here, and I was never an amazing student like you, my first LSAT was shit, my rewrite was better, but I don't know how _I_ got in. I'm a fraud, I'm not smart enough for this, and maybe I should bow out now, before I waste any more money."

She shakes her head, "First off, there's no refunding that tuition now, so it would be more of a waste to drop out, and second you did get in, and I know you are smart enough. You have nowhere to go but up, and I know you, you will rise to the occasion, but if I'm wrong and you don't, oh well, you tried you gave it a year, it didn't work out, and that's fine."

"Can't say our mother would agree," Zelena remarks dryly.

She scoffs, "True," as Zelena comments how that might actually get her some attention from Cora.

It turns into a bit of a bitch session about their mother, and by the end, Zelena is thanking her and sending an apology text to Kathryn. Regina starts on dinner while Zelena heads home to grab a change of clothes and anything else she needs for the night.

* * *

Robin still thinks this is a stupid idea, taking John to a strip club, but all of the hockey guys are going after practice, and John seems excited, so maybe he's wrong. They have a couple of beer at their place as they wait for the guys to finish practice, chatting about nothing. They play with Merry until she wears herself out from all the jumping, and curls up on John's lap.

John is finally starting to open up about how he's feeling when they get the text the guys are leaving, which is their cue to leave, and the moment is broken.

He doesn't want to get drunk because they have class in the morning, but he's not sure he will make it through a lousy strip show without a good buzz.

The lighting is so shitty he can barely see the stage when they enter, but he hears the rowdy calls from the guys who are seated right in front of the stage, lovely.

He orders a tequila shot with his beer as John goes to greet everyone. A woman slides up beside him, and he's about to tell her he's not interested in whatever she's selling until a familiar voice says, "I need one of those too, and you can put his on my tab."

He can't help but ask, "Emma what are _you_ doing here?"

She laughs, "The guys told me they were going out to after practice to cheer up John, they didn't mention the venue until we were in the cab."

He doubles over with his laughter, can't help it because it's just too good. He can picture her face when she realized what they were doing, and god, is it ever funny.

When he's stopped giggling they cheers and take their shots. After, he asks her, "So how bad is it?"

She shrugs, "Saw some what appeared to be very fake boobs, then she danced around the pole, but not very well. Killian tried to buy me a lap dance, but I told him I'd need about seven more drinks for that. The good thing is I'm now drinking for free tonight, and you're welcome."

"Thanks," he says and sighs, "yeah that's about what I expected. There's only the one club here; I can't imagine it's world-class entertainment."

Emma snorts, "Yep definitely not, that first woman, other than her huge cans, was not attractive, but the one on stage now isn't too bad though."

"Another shot then?" he asks, adding, "if Killian's paying that is."

She laughs, "Sounds good."

His Fitbit vibrates, and Regina's name pops up with a, 'hey how's it…' He grabs for his actual phone as Emma returns to the group.

 _Hey, how's it going? You were right factum writing is very not fun._

 _It's alright, I'm out with the guys, they are trying to cheer John up though probably not in the best way but their hearts are in the right places. What are you up to?_

Once he hits send he heads back to the group who are super boisterous, not that that is any real surprise. As he gets closer, he realizes why, John is up on the stage, being grinded on by a naked woman, and cheered on by the group. He has to admit it is mildly entertaining, even though strip clubs really aren't his thing. His Fitbit vibrates, but he ignores it for a minute, as he watches the rest of John's onstage dance, mostly laughing at the ridiculousness of it. John comes off the stage all proud. John and Killian high five, the. agree they have to do this again, and Robin just shakes his head because he doesn't get the appeal. He understands lusting after beautiful women, but staring at women who do this all the time, and probably hate it, surrounded by horny men, it's all not his cup of tea.

The guys all get mesmerized as a different girl comes on stage, she at least looks cute, a petite brunette that reminds him of another much prettier petite brunette and he grabs for his phone. Sure enough, that message and another were from her.

 _Going to bed soon, almost done our first draft, going to finish tomorrow after class_

 _Out where?_

He responds: _Strip club lol, not my idea_

He starts to listen into the conversation Killian is having with the other guys, but it's tips about getting laid, and all he can do is restrain his eye-rolls over the ridiculous suggestions being thrown around.

 _Not into naked women?_

 _Oh some very much so but *these* naked women not so much_

 _So sad sound like you aren't getting the experience out of it you are supposed to._

He shoots back: _What experience is that?_

Then he turns to Emma and asks, "Are you having fun?"

She snorts, "About as much as you I'd wager. I think I'm going to head home after this drink."

"I'm thinking the same."

"Swan," Killian bellows, "When are you getting on that stage?"

He's surprised when Emma doesn't tell him off, instead leans into the joke but then she hangs out with these guys all the time so she must be used to this stuff.

His phone buzzes again.

 _The experience of getting all turned on from a woman stripping for you_

He smirks down at his phone, and responds: _Why you are so right, are you offering? ;)_

He doesn't get an answer until he's finished his beer, and finds himself twiddling his thumbs, wondering if he should leave. Emma ordered another drink, so it seems she's staying after all.

Regina replied with: _What would you give me if I were?_

Just all of his possessions but he responds with: _What do you want?_

And then says his goodbyes ignoring the chant of "Pussy" Killian starts up.

When he gets outside she's texted him back.

 _I could really use a massage_

He responds instantly, _It's yours,_ because that is an easy payment for a striptease

 _Well I guess I owe you a strip tease then_

 _Can't wait ;)_

He laughs to himself when she responds with: _Bet mine will be better than those strippers_

 _Oh I am sure it will_

He follows it up with: _I'm on my way home and will have the house to myself if you'd like to cash in on that backrub_

 _Sorry I'm falling asleep raincheck?_

 _On that striptease, why of course, any day you just say the word_

He's unsurprised when she responds with just " _lol"_ he's about to start another text when she follows it up with: _I'm going to sleep now, night Robin_

So instead he tells her, _Goodnight darling, sweet dreams._

* * *

Call day was not at all what she expected. Her phone rang three times, and it was quick, all over by 8:10 am. She doesn't know exactly what she expected, but not that. She has three interviews over reading week, and she's fucking thrilled. She rides that high all through Professor Fisher's contracts class, then through an afternoon of careful rewrites of her section—Mal had gone through it with a fine tooth comb.

Mal has an interview too, but she had opted to celebrate at some party at Killian's. A party that frankly held no interest for Regina. She wants to celebrate sure, needs to get out of her house after being cooped up in it all week, but a party with the hockey guys is not what she wants.

No, what she wants is simple, Robin—she wants to get breathless and dishevelled with him. The only thing is, she is so sick of her apartment. They've been to his place before, but only when John wasn't around, and it doesn't really make sense to go somewhere they would have to be quiet when she has a whole house to herself.

Zelena is at the library and will be going back to her own place after. She'd spent Wednesday night and Thursday night at Regina's, getting the rest she so needed. She's feeling a lot better and was able to accomplish more work once she was well rested.

She'll be going home to a surprise, Regina went with her last night to pick up her stuff after class—it was fucking cold and snowy, and Zelena offered her a ride, so though she easily could have walked home and it would have been faster she saw the place. It was awful, and it was no wonder it was stressing Zelena out. Regina had never seen such a gross place in her life, the floor was crunchy for god's sake. When they got back, and Zelena took a shower she called Molly Maid, and arranged to have the whole common area, and Zelena's bathroom scrubbed top to bottom. She had borrowed Zelena's car to "get a few groceries" which was really her needing Zelena's house key which is on that key chain to let Molly Maid in.

She stayed long enough to get hit on by one of Zelena's skeezy roommates, who said he would pass on that the place was being cleaned, and answer any questions they might have. She didn't exactly trust the guy, so she made sure to show them the right bathroom, but then she left, quickly ran into the grocery store and bought toilet paper, some fruit, and a head of romaine, then headed home. Of course, her efforts were for nothing because when she got back, Zelena wasn't even there, having texted Regina she was going to the library when Regina was driving home.

When she needed a bit of a break from working, and her damn apartment, she had walked to school, delivered Zelena's keys to her, then took up residence in the library and finished up.

She's known all day she wanted Robin, but she's an idiot, and hadn't made a plan because she didn't know when she'd finish, and now is paying for that mistake.

She texted him ten minutes ago asking if he wanted to hang out, and he hasn't responded. It's not that she thinks he's ignoring her, she's sure he hasn't read it yet, he's not that guy, it's just it's Friday night, and it was naive of her to assume he wouldn't have plans.

Luck though turns out to be on her side, and when she opens her door, her phone buzzes.

 _I would love to see you, especially if it involved that promised strip tease ;)_

She smiles to herself, amused and shoots back: _That could be arranged, when are you free?_

 _Whenever darling John went off to Killian's but I wasn't feeling it, so I was just going to put on a movie and have a quiet night in but this is much better_

John isn't home, well isn't that convenient.

 _So I could come over now then?_

He responds almost instantly with: _I'd love that_ and follows it up with: _You can meet Merry_

And oh yes, she can, she's not a big snapchatter, nor was Robin, but he's sent many pictures and videos of this adorable kitten since he came home to her on Tuesday.

 _Can't wait, just going to change and head over_

 _Can I make a request?_

 _You can though it depends on what it is whether it will happen lol_

 _That tight button down you wore last week, I'd love to see you undo that straining button for me ;)_

She knows exactly what top he's referring to, had caught his eyes wandering more than once when they were having a conversation on their class breaks.

 _Consider it done, anything else? This is your striptease after all_

 _I mean heels would be nice but it's gross out and I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself on the way over_

She laughs then because he's so considerate, but also not thinking.

 _Heels it is, I'll wear my boots and change lol_

She puts on her good push up bra, picks the red one so he'll get a pop of colour under that black blouse. She puts on the matching red thong, then debates what she should wear on the bottom. Pants seem too hard to get out of, so a skirt is probably best. A zipper would help too, she thinks, as she rifles through her closet, landing on her black dress skirt. Hanging with it is a matching jacket, and hmm, that could work. Look super professional, then strip down to nothing.

When she's dressed she checks her phone again to another text.

 _Oh and maybe I could see your glasses—_ she groans, she had hoped he forgot about them— _you can be my sexy little nerd_

 _Seeing them will be an instant turn off, you don't want to ruin it_

Unsurprisingly, he disagrees, _I don't think so but why don't you let me be the judge of that_

She sighs, but relents and asks, _So sexy nerd, should I put my hair up then?_

 _Yes please, and shake it out at some point ;)_

She shakes her head because men, so predictable. It's his strip tease, and she'd be lying if she tried to say the thought of giving him what he wants didn't turn her on. She has that low simmer of anticipatory arousal as she fixes her hair and make up, a little skip in her step as she picks what heels to wear to complete the outfit—she goes for red, to match the red on her lips and her lingerie.

She looks at the whole ensemble, puts on her damn glasses, and she has to admit she looks hot, even with those eyesores, which yes, do add to the effect.

She should walk, it's not that far, but she pulls up Uber instead, and orders one so she can arrive and give him the full effect right away. She covers it with her coat and scarf, and you know what, she'll strip those off for him too.

She can't wait to see his face when he sees her, she's going to knock his socks off. She's practically giddy as he buzzes her into his building. He meets her at the elevator, his eye raking over what he can see approvingly, before he breathes, "Fuck you're sexy," and she feels it. He leans in to kiss her, and she _Tssk_ s because he'll smear her lipstick, plus she's in charge of this little charade, and thinks she ought to deny him for once.

She saunters down the hall toward his apartment, being sure to sway her hips. She doesn't need to look back to know that he's watching her, but she does, blowing a cheeky kiss over her shoulder as she continues to strut down the hall.

His hands settle on her hips as she's opening the door, his lips finding that sensitive spot on her neck, and _Oh,_ that's nice. She indulges for a moment, lets him feast on the side of her neck in his hallway, then she opens the door and steps inside. She walks down the little hall into the living area, and pauses, deciding where the best place to do this is. She could have him on the couch but—oh god, his hands squeeze at her ass, and his lips find the other side of her neck—there's not that much space in the living room with the TV and coffee table. She arches into him as she mulls her options, she could put him one of the dining room chairs and stand right here in the opening, strip and slowly get closer and closer until she settles down onto his lap, and yep, okay, that's what they are doing.

"Pull up a chair," she commands, but her voice is a little too breathy and damn, she is already wet, just from a few well-placed kisses, and the anticipation of what's to come.

He does as she asks, while she tries to calm her raging hormones. She'll strip him too, she thinks, as she eyes him sitting eagerly in the chair, at least of that blue button down that accents his toned arms and lust filled eyes.

She closes her eyes for a second, then opens them with a lip bite an, _Mmm_ and an, "Are you ready to have some fun, Mr. Locksley?"

He nods fervently, eyes widening as she reaches for her scarf. She slides it off of her neck, getting closer and closer as she tells him, "You can't touch until I say so."

He nods again, this time with a sexy little smirk that makes her want to kiss it right off of his lips, which she will in time, but for now, "To ensure you are a good boy I thought I'd tie your hands, if that's okay with you?"

He breathes a long "Fuuck," then very intentionally tells her, looking her right in the eye, "Yes do it," as he wraps his hands around the back of the chair, waiting.

It's the permission she needs, and she comes around the back of the chair and ties his hands together. She's no knot master, he could easily slide out of it if he wanted to, but he won't, not unless she asks him to, she knows that.

It's hot seeing him like this, entirely at her mercy waiting for her to rock his world. While she's definitely much more submissive, she can appreciate the thrill of dominance, have a little role reversal, just not all the time. She likes being under his control, but she wants to give him this, rock his world the way he has hers, and of course, have her world rocked in the process.

She slides out from behind the chair, plays his game for a second, kisses at his neck, making him groan then pulls away with a light laugh. "Now I think I'm wearing a few too many layers, wouldn't you agree Mr. Locksley."

"God yes," he pants, eyeing her unabashedly, in a way that makes her go hot all over.

"It's getting a little warm in here I guess I should lose this jacket," she says as she fiddles with one button, the second, then the third. He licks his lips when her blouse comes into view, and good, she wants him desperate by the end of this, pleading and writhing the way he has made her before.

She lets her coat fall to the floor behind her, then turns, bending down to grab it, purposefully giving him a great view of her ass as she picks up her coat. She hangs it as he watches her, and while she can't imagine her hanging her coat is sexy at all, he doesn't protest.

Then she gets to work. She steps toward him, leading with her chest as his eyes are drawn down to the very straining buttons of this blouse (it's not meant for a push up bra that's for sure). She undoes a solitary button, giving him much more cleavage, but nothing else. He groans appreciatively, and she smirks. She loses the jacket next, it was really just to complete the look and give her another thing to take off. She shakes it off slowly, loving how he can't stop staring, it makes her feel bold, sexy and wanted.

She bites at her lip again, as she debates what next, she fiddles with a button on her blouse and ever so slowly undoes it, revealing most of her chest and peek of her bra to him.

"God that's hot," he says, and good, it's what she wanted. She wants to draw out the shirt though, so she turns, makes a show out of lowering the zipper on her skirt and then shimmying out it. Then she steps back and back, until she can sit down onto him. She can feel him growing hard in his pants, so she gives him a couple rocks before standing up, turning and settling back on his lap, this time facing him.

"Fuck love," he rasps. She chuckles, and starts on his buttons. She can't take his shirt off, not with his hands tied, but she gets it off most of the way, so she can run her hands over the firm plains of his chest. God, he's sexy, and he's looking at her like he wants to devour her, which only makes him even sexier.

"Hair or shirt?" she asks casually, as her one hand thumbs over his nipple giving it a little pinch.

"God love," he groans, then answers, "Hair."

She starts to stand, but it's to his dismay, it's written across his face, so she stops settles back onto his lap, reaching for the hair elastics holding her hair up. She shakes it out dramatically, then arches back and stretches as she shakes again.

He pants, "Fuck that's hot," and she grins.

"Just wait," she says, with a smirk, and stands again, so she can ever so slowly unbutton her top. He watches transfixed as her fingers undo button after button, until her whole belly is exposed. But she doesn't take it off just yet. Instead, she turns, shimmies her shoulders a little, and lets it start to fall. She blows him an over the shoulder kiss, then faces him, letting it fall to the floor. His jaw drops at her lingerie, even though it's not that much, and god, if he looks like this now she wants to know how would he look at her with real sexy lingerie, a shopping trip is in order because she needs to find out.

"Now Mr. Locksley, you've been such a good boy, so tell me… how do you want me?"

His eyes widen, and he stutters for a second, before taking a breath and telling her, "Set me free and fuck me in this chair."

Heat streaks through her middle as she pictures it, and oh, yes, that is a great idea. But first, "Mmm I like that…" she steps closer, "but first…" and closer, "Kiss me," she says, then closes the distance, settling on his lap as she kisses him hard. He responds eagerly, nipping at her bottom lip in a way that makes her sigh. He's so hard now, and she can't help but rock against him as they make out heatedly. It feels so good; she doesn't want to stop but, she wants him out of those pants. She sinks off of him and onto her knees as she undoes his fly. He pushes his hips up, so she can slide his pants off. When they hit the floor, she pulls his cock out through his boxers, and strokes it firmly as he twitches and groans for her. He looks so hot, all pent up and wanting, so she can't help but flick her tongue out and down the length of him, before taking him into her mouth and sucking. She bobs down on him a couple of times as he gasps. But she still has a couple of items to remove, and well, she wants to rile him up a little more. She stands again, and he pouts adorably, until she reaches for the clasps of her bra and opens it.

She sinks down onto his lap again with a command of "Suck," that he follows instantly, taking her nipple into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. She can't help but moan loudly, god it's good. He lavishes the other one as she grows hotter for him, then surprises her by claiming her lips again fiercely.

She should set his hands free, grab a condom, and strip off her thong because she needs him inside her, now. She goes to pull away to do just that, but then his mouth is on her neck, and oh god, no, this is what she needs, this and to rock against him. Oh god, oh god, she's close, oh fuck. She resists the urge to grind faster because she wants to come with him inside her, but god, is it ever good. She throws her head back on a moan, and fuck maybe she should just come like this and oh—

"Oh fuck sorry man, we'll just, uh, go to my, uh, room for a minute..."

She doesn't turn around because then John will see her boobs, but oh fuck, oh fuck, shit. He can definitely see most of her ass, but that's better, right? Oh god, shit this is so mortifying. She sinks her head down onto Robin's shoulder as it gets even worse.

"It's, uh, this one…" John says as she hears a familiar awkward giggle, and no, it can't be. She can't look she will die, but it sounds just like Kathryn. Oh god, oh god, her friend is seeing her mostly naked about to have sex. Oh god, fuck!

She hears John's door slam, and she's up and off of Robin in a heartbeat, frantically redressing as he does the same. His face is bright red, and she's sure hers is even worse.

She hears more laughs from John's room, then an "Aww this is Merry," and fuck, fuck, that is Kathryn there's no way it's not, and _fuck_. The floor needs to open and swallow her up because how is she ever supposed to see either of them ever again without them picturing this, goddammit. She is absolutely mortified, she cannot think of a single moment in her life more humiliating than this. She needs to leave, now.

"Is it safe to come out yet?" John bellows and she feels her face heat even more, and nope she can't do this, can't face him.

Robin must see the panic on her face because he says, "One minute," then his arm is stroking down her back, and he's asking, "Are you okay?"

"I-I can't be here."

He nods, as she grabs her coat out of the closet, "Okay, let's go to your place."

She turns and narrows her eyes, hissing, "We are not having sex after that."

He laughs, but quells it when he sees just how unamused she is, "We don't have to, but I also wouldn't mind getting out here after that, and besides I'm sure John and Kathryn would appreciate the privacy."

That does make sense, she buttons her coat as he puts on his, and passes her her scarf. As soon as it's in her hand, she's out the door, and she hears Robin tell them, "We're off to Regina's goodnight," as the door shuts. God, that's embarrassing.

He joins her outside, and she realizes she's left her purse. There is no way in hell she's going back in there after that. When she tells Robin, he goes in and grabs it. She hears some chuckles, and well, at least he can find some humour in her humiliation, she thinks bitterly.

They don't say much until they get in the Uber, and Robin's hand settles on her thigh. She almost jumps, her body suddenly remembering that, before that horrifying incident, she had been this close to orgasm.

Then he comments, "John and Kathryn, that's not a pair I would have expected."

And well, her either, as the shock of being caught starts to fade, she thinks about it, and asks, "Were they…?" She trails off because it's a stupid question. Why else would they have come back the John and Robin's if not to hook up?

Robin nods, "Oh yeah seemed that way for sure, they were hanging off of each other until they saw us." She's hit with another flash of humiliation at that mention, as he continues, "I guess John's trying, or well not trying, getting back out there, I feel bad for Kathryn though, he only just broke up with Merida, this isn't going anywhere."

That takes her mind off of her embarrassment for a moment because, "Oh that doesn't matter to her, she just, uh, wants to have some fun."

"Oh, well then…"

The conversation lapses, then but they are only a minute from her place, so she doesn't bother to start it back up.

It's only when they get inside, and Robin comments, "Seriously your glasses are hot," that she even remembers she's wearing them.

She shakes her head at him, "Yeah okay… I totally believe that."

His voice goes low and sexy, as he steps in, and tells her, "Trust me they are, god, that was hotter than any strip I've ever seen before, god." His eyes tour her body as he continues, "That was unbelievably sexy, and I'm going to remember it for the rest of my life and not because we got walked in on."

His tone makes her clench, swallow and she licks her lips as he finishes drawing his gaze over her. It's suddenly very warm in this room, and oh god, okay, maybe they will be having sex after all. But wait…

She steps away, and moves to the front window to ensure Zelena's car is gone, it is, thank god. They will not get walked in on again. But just to be sure she grabs him and pulls him up the stairs to her room, shutting and locking the door just to be on the safe side.

* * *

Robin is awakened by sex noises and lovely, guess that answers the did they or didn't they question, though he would have preferred to have learned about it from John rather than get the soundtrack.

He looks at his Fitbit and it's 8:30 AM, too bloody early to be getting up on a Saturday, especially one where he had gotten in one.

He hears another choked moan, and okay, yep, he needs his headphones. He puts them on and some soothing music, tries to fall back asleep, but it's uncomfortable with these on, so all he really manages to do is lay in silence with his eyes closed for twenty minutes. He makes his way into the hallway, toward the bathroom, and Merry seizes the opportunity to run into his room. Great, now he'll have to keep his door open. He keeps his headphones on the whole trip, just in case, and wonders when he will be able to get back to sleep. He runs smack into Kathryn when he opens the bathroom door, and her face flushes when she takes in his headphones.

He takes them off with a, "Good morning," before sliding out of the way, so she can use the washroom.

She gives him a quiet "Good morning," then slips in, shutting the door. He can tell she feels a little awkward, but really, she has nothing to be embarrassed about. Still, he leaves his headphones on the bedside table just in case, then he's falling back asleep.

When he wakes up again, and this time at a decent hour actually feeling well rested, Kathryn is gone, and John's chilling on the couch watching "The Office."

Robin starts the kettle, reached for a mug, setting his pour over coffee brewer on top. He grabs a filter measures the grounds, and looks around the kitchen debating what to eat. He settles on the Cheerios because they need groceries, and he's feeling too lazy to make eggs. Between his cereal and his coffee he finishes off the milk, so yeah, definitely need to get groceries.

He settles on the couch beside John, but they don't talk much, until he finishes his cereal. He was surprised John jumped into bed with someone so quickly. "So… Kathryn spent the night?" He asks, with an arched brow.

John just laughs, then says, "Need I remind you I came home to you tied to a chair."

As soon as they make eye contact they both devolve into snickers. God, what a night. There was no hiding what he and Regina were up to, that's for sure, but at least, and thank god, she was on top of him, and John didn't see his cock out.

He goes to respond, but then giggles overtake him as he remembers the look on John's face as he looked from Robin to Regina, to the clothes strewn across the floor and back, frozen in place. Regina had been mortified, and while he was embarrassed at the time, mostly because his hands were tied behind his back, he can now see just how funny it was. He's caught John in the act before, it was only fair he get caught too.

When he's finally got himself under control, John offers, "Sorry for the interruption man, looks like I really messed up a good time."

Robin snorts because yes, yes, he did, "It's alright, was my fault we should have went to my room. I, uh, thought you'd be out for a lot longer."

John laughs, "Yeah me too, but then Kathryn and I got to talking, and I don't really know how it happened, but then we were kissing. I was all, 'hey you want to go back to my place?' I expected to get rejected, but then didn't, so that was… nice."

"Just nice?"

"Fucking fantastic man. It was a little weird, it not being Merida, but that only lasted a second, and then it was like oh yeah, this is great, I love being single."

He snorts again because oh John. "So that's your big plan then? Get over your break up by fucking a lot of women?"

"You know it man, gotta get back in the saddle, and honestly I don't think I could have done it with someone better. She's hot, doesn't look like Merida, and Kathryn was very passive let me lead where Merida was all controlling, which don't get me wrong can hot as fuck, but it was nice to have a change. It was really good, and like she wasn't all weird about it this morning. She just said goodbye, no like oh give me your number lets go out stuff. She treated it like that was it, just the one night, and weirdly it kinda makes me want to do it with her again sometime, like because I know it's so chill."

He doesn't really know what to say about that, for him it would be much too soon to jump into bed with someone, but John's always been a bit of a player, and this seems to be working for him. "Well, I'm glad it all worked out."

"Speaking of, I hope you got yours after."

He rolls his eyes, but answers, "I did though after that, I doubt we'll ever hang out here again."

John chortles, "Yeah probably for the best, I caught Mills' face when you came back to get her purse, it was red as a tomato."

He sighs, "Yeah, she was not very happy about that."

"Was she stripping for you?"

He nods and John breathes, "Fuck I thought so, sorry man, and also _daamn_."

He shrugs, "Yes, well, it is what it is."

"God, maybe I should get a regular fuck buddy, so I can have that type of fun."

He just shakes his head, "Why don't you just focus on getting over your break up first."

"I mean I think a striptease would go a long way toward that."

He gives John a 'seriously' look, which he answers with a loud laugh and, "I'm just saying if someone offered I would not say no."

"I expected nothing less," he drawls, "anyway I should do some work but we need milk if you go out today."


	8. February III

She wakes up with a slight tinge of anxiety she hopes is because she has class and has to face Kathryn (and John but that's not as bad) for the first time since her humiliation. Maybe she'll get lucky and Kathryn will be sick today—what a terrible thought, god, she's a bad friend. The sting of her mortification has passed, but it's still so embarrassing that her friend saw her basically naked, and practically having sex with Robin.

She didn't tell Mal, and it seems Kathryn didn't either because it hasn't come up, but she can't be sure; Mal might just be biding her time, so she can make a joke at Regina's expense.

After they pass in their factum, they find a table to sit at, and Regina starts on a schedule to get caught back up. She's behind on three sets of readings from last week, and has only done one set of this week's readings so far. Reading week is next week, but she has interviews, and she needs time to prepare for those, but she hasn't started her exam notes yet.

She was so much more prepared last semester, and that has to be why she did well. Now, she's falling behind, and it needs to stop. She needs to buckle down and focus this week, no distractions, which means no Robin. She's about to start her period, so that's off the table anyway.

She lists out everything she needs to do, and it's overwhelming. There's that pressure deep down in her chest. She tries to force a deep breath, but it catches, stuck at that tight spot. It hurts to push so she doesn't, focuses on letting the air out slowly (she doesn't really succeed). She is not going to freak out now, she does not have time to freak out, she is going to plan out when she will do everything, and then she will feel better. That will make it all better.

She can practically feel her heart beating in that tight spot in her chest, and there's a lump in her throat she's ignoring. She has the sudden urge to cry. For god's sake, she needs to get a damn grip. There is nothing for her to be anxious about, she is making a plan to prevent this.

Of course, her brain doesn't listen to that, is racing a mile a minute over how she'll never catch up, how she's going to fail her exams. It's ridiculous, she knows it is, but she can't stop it.

She needs to focus. She tries, she really does, sketches out all of the rest of this day in half an hour blocks. Then she starts on Tuesday. By the time she's gotten to Friday that tension has loosened considerably, it's still simmering ready to flare, but it's manageable. She has a plan, one that will get her back on track—at the expense of doing work ten hours a day, but she's budgeted generous reading time, so she might not need it.

She can still feel a little ball of tension sitting in the bottom of her chest, but it's no longer threatening to rise up and consume her, and for now, that's enough.

As she starts her reading week plan, leaving Saturday through Thursday blank for interview prep and interviews, she realizes she was so caught up in her own head she completely missed Kathryn joining them.

They make eye contact, and she fights the urge to blush. Instead she breathes out, "Hey, sorry, um, got a little… caught up."

Kathryn smiles, "It's okay; you were in the zone."

She thinks it's going to be okay, relaxes a little, then Kathryn giggles, and she sinks her face into her hands—dammit.

"Sorry, I just…" she stops to laugh some more, "remembered the uh last time I saw you caught up and in the zone."

She feels her cheeks grow crimson. Oh god, that was mortifying, a little less so now, but only slightly.

"What am I missing?" Mal asks, and Regina hides her face again. She is never going to live this down.

"I may have walked in on Regina and Robin."

Mal snorts, and devolves into full-bellied laughter when Regina lifts her head, making eye contact for all of two seconds, before focusing on a spot on the floor, one that she wishes would swallow her up.

"So how exactly did that happen?" Mal asks, and Regina prays Kathryn won't go into too much detail.

"I got to talking with John and Killian's party, and we decided to go back to his place, so I could _see the cat._ And we walked in the door and there they were."

Mal arches a brow at 'see the cat.' "I'm surprised Regina isn't avoiding you."

"Hey, I'm not _that_ bad." And okay yes, she had thought about it, but it was a stray thought, that's all.

Mal turns her attention back to Kathryn, "So what, did you catch them fucking on the couch and Regina died of embarrassment?"

If only.

"Not exactly…" Kathryn starts and Regina groans. Dammit, she should have known her humiliation would not stay between them.

"It was the chair, and Robin was tied to it." Kathryn's smile turns back into a fit of giggles, and Mal too laughs at her expense.

"Sounds like you interrupted a good time," Mal drawls.

"Yeah, it seemed like it."

"It was," Regina answers bitterly.

"Oh, come on, little one, I'm sure you got yours after, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I could have done without the humiliation in between."

Mal laughs, "But then I wouldn't have gotten this entertaining story. So Kathryn, did you _see the cat_?" her tone laced with enough innuendo to make it clear she's not talking about Merry.

"Among other things," Kathryn says with a coy smile, then the attention is on her, and Regina could not be more grateful.

* * *

Something's off with her, she's not quite herself, stressed he thinks, but more so than usual. Something he would have asked her about if she hadn't crashed her lips to his as soon as he had his coat off, pulling him blindly toward the stairs. Her kiss is almost too eager, forceful in a way it usually isn't, and it throws him a little. It's hot, and if she hadn't had that aura of unease he'd think nothing of it, but well, he is.

Why is he even thinking this right now? He has a beautiful woman who is pulling at his shirt as soon as they are up the stairs, kissing him hard, her tongue flicking into his mouth. He can feel himself starting to rise for her as she presses her front into him, and he tells himself to stop thinking to stop worrying. After all, she invited him over. She's the one who initiated this, so perhaps it's just what she needs.

And if sex, if release is what she needs, he is damn well going to give it to her, or die trying.

By the time they get into her bedroom, his belt is undone and his pants a hair away from being a huge tripping hazard. She pins him against the door, doesn't even bother to turn on the light, her hands loosening the last little bit of his zipper, pushing his pants down and off of his hips, as her mouth trails down his neck with these harsh little bites that feel so bloody good he can't stop groaning. He's fully hard now, but he's barely touched her, he realizes, he'll have to rectify that. She'd been all wandering hands and stripping him while they kissed and kissed, so somehow he's half-naked when he hasn't even kissed her neck, has barely groped her ass.

He runs his one hand through her hair as the other travels down her back. It ghosts over her ass as she gives another bite to his collarbone, there's that slight twinge of pain that makes it feel even better, more intense. She seems to want it rougher tonight, so he slaps her ass, but she doesn't moan like he expected—but then again he's done virtually nothing to warm her up. Because her reaction wasn't what he expected, he's a little surprised when she urges, "Do that again."

He does, adds a little more force to it this time, which has her gasping, and good, now they are getting somewhere.

Her mouth travels down his chest, then she's nibbling at his nipple, and he lets out a harsh keening cry, which only spurs her on, has her teeth pressing a little more firmly. God damn, is it ever good. Pleasure pops out from his nipple, all the way down his belly right to his cock. God, he wants her, wants to work her up like she's working him up.

She treats the other side to the same, but it's a bit more sensitive, and he hisses, "Ahh," and she backs off immediately, apologetically. Her tongue sweeps out lightly to soothe the ache, and his hand slides into her hair, urging her on.

He'll do something for her in a minute, but this is god, so nice. If she wants to have her moment to make him putty in her hand, he's not going to stand in the way.

She sinks down to her knees and kisses down his belly as the anticipation makes his heart race. He knows exactly where she's headed, and it makes the tension grow deliciously. God he can't wait to feel her mouth, she's so fucking good with it. She told him it turns her on to do this and he fucking loves that, loves that she loves to do this, that it's not a selfish thing that's just for him. It's for both of them, gets her hot and wet for him, which makes it somehow more, and better.

She pushes down his boxers, doesn't even give him the chance to step out of them before her hand is covering him and stroking firmly. He moans deeply because it feels so good, that hard tugging pressure adding to the coil of tension in his gut. He lets his hands settle in her hair as she starts to lick at him. Her hand goes still, and the whole thing is maddeningly teasing as she licks up and down the length of him, avoiding his head, where he's most sensitive.

He's watching her, so focused and so concentrated on him—it's hot, made even hotter when she looks up at and raises her eyebrows before licking over the head of his cock again and again. His eyes close as he gasps at the pleasure. Then she's sucking him, moving her mouth up and down his length, and oh fuck, that's good. Shit, she's so good at this he needs to be careful, lest there not be a main event.

She's not showing him any mercy, going deep as she can, then bringing her hand into the mix, and bobbing up and down at a fast, firm speed, sucking him so hard and it's so good.

He chokes on a moan when she brings her tongue into the mix, swirling it over him, and oh god, shit, this is good, too good. That tension is starting to prickle, starting to really wind up and build, but it's not the time for that. He doesn't want to get too close, doesn't want to be throbbing for attention while he brings her up with him, so he pants, "God love, you gotta stop that."

She doesn't listen, and everything starts to go tighter, and god, it would feel so good to lean into it, to let this all explode, but it will feel better later, with her around him.

"Stop, stop," he hisses, and she looks up him, confused. "I'm a good couple of minutes from coming, love."

She stands then, and he wastes no time stepping out of his pants and pushing her toward the bed amidst a slew of kisses.

When they reach the bed he pushes her up onto it, and she takes the hint, making herself comfortable on the edge of the bed. He flicks on her bedside lamp, so he can see her, and then kisses down her neck. She sighs encouragingly, which he takes as a good sign. They get her shirt off, and then he's popping off her bra and groaning at her pert breasts. He kisses all around her nipple until it tightens, then he takes it in his mouth and sucks how she likes, relishing the hand that fists in his hair, holding him there. He treats her to some firm pulsing sucks as she _Mmm_ s. It's not as enthusiastic as usual, but he will get her there or try his hardest.

He gives her other breast the same treatment, or tries to, but as soon as he starts up his sucks, her hand is pushing him, urging him down, lower. He gets the intent, and he can't help but smirk at her before making his way down. He gets rid of her bottoms first, then kisses up her thighs the way he knows she likes. He's not getting the response he wants, until he remembers her teeth on him, and plants a soft bite to her mid-inner thigh that has her gasping.

He does that until he reaches her sex, then gives soft teasing licks all around her, until her hand fists in his hair and she pushes him toward her clit. It's a direction he's more than happy to take. His tongue flicks over her clit again and again as her nails scratch through his hair.

That hand pushes him away, and he looks up at her curiously, and god, is she ever a picture, naked, nipples hard, breath heaving.

"Want you inside me," she pants in a sexy as hell tone, and he groans—god he will never tire of hearing her like this; it's so hot.

But first, "Let me make you come with my tongue."

She shakes her head, "No, I want to come on you."

And god that's hot, and who is he to deny her that? He stands, asking, "How do you want me?" as he reaches for his pants, pulling a condom out of the pocket.

"I want to be on top." He smirks, he should have guessed with how aggressive she's been today. She's a fucking dream riding on top of him, eagerly seeking her pleasure, and he would never ever turn that down.

"Fuck yes, can't wait, darling," he says as he rolls on the condom. He joins her on the bed, laying down so she can have her wicked way with him.

She sinks down onto him, and she's so warm and tight around him, it's bliss. He chokes out a moan as she takes him all the way in. She feels so good, looks fantastic, and god, he's so lucky to have this. She starts up a quick pace that has him groaning, but stops a minute later with a frustrated huff.

She's shifting, leaning back and forth as she tries to find just the right angle. He bites at his lip as his eyes fall to where they are joined, where his cock is slipping in and out of her with each testing thrust. He feels her clench on him when she finds just the right spot, delights in the panted, "Ahh," she lets out in response. Now they are in business.

He props himself up, careful not to move his hips at all, takes one of her tits in his mouth and sucks eagerly. She gasps, "Oh yes," and starts to rut more firmly on top of him.

She takes him in again and again, and it's heaven. She feels fucking incredible, even more so when she trembles and spasms around him as her fingers come down to rub firmly over her clit.

"That's it, darling," he urges, "take what you need."

She's fucking him hard, rubbing herself firmly, her other hand teasing her nipple. It's hot as hell, and she's biting her lip, tense and tight around him, but it doesn't seem to be enough for her. He plants his feet, starts fucking up into her from below and she trembles, gasps, "More," and he tries to comply—and ignore the urge to spill over—but her balance is off, and when he fucks her harder she loses that angle she liked and sighs with frustration.

Her hips still, keeping him buried in deep, her fingers still circling over her clit. He takes a moment to rein himself in before asking, "What do you need, darling?"

She thinks for a second and then pulls off of him much to his dismay. "Harder," she says and then gets on all fours, turning her head to tell him, "Fuck me hard from behind."

Oh, yes, please. "Gladly," he tells her lines himself up to do just that.

They both moan as he enters her, and then she's breathily urging, "Fuck me hard," and it might be the hottest thing he's ever heard in his life.

He takes her at a steady pace, pounding into her as she cries out, "God, yes, like that."

He feels her trembling, and this time his fingers come to circle over her clit, and she moans, "Oh, yes."

She's so fucking tight, so warm and so wet, she's dripping out onto his balls. Fuck, she needs to come soon, he's so close, and this is so damn hot, the ache keeps growing.

He's trying to hold back, but this is so erotic, and she feels and sounds like a fucking dream.

She is right there but stuck, still, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold out.

Her moans are getting less desperate and more defeated, and no, he is not going to fail at this task.

She balks when he pulls out whines, "Noo," when he replaces his cock with his fingers.

"Sorry darling, too close, can't…"

"No, please, want to feel you," she begs.

"I won't last," he warns.

"I don't care. Please."

He slides back into her with a groan, and starts up that fast pace that had her right there before. He fucks her as hard as he can, and she's moaning, is so tight against him, her fingers strumming over her clit.

"God, darling, so close," he pants as he hopes to high heaven she is too.

"Mmm, fuck," is all she responds.

He's right there, he's not going to be able to stop it, he grits his teeth as he warns, "Love, can't hang on, you feel too fucking good."

"Feels so—fuck—good," she trembles again, so tight around him as he tries desperately to hold out for her.

"Mmm, want you to come," she urges, and that's good because he couldn't stop it if he tried. Pleasure rips through him, devouring him whole as he loses himself to the hot waves radiating down his body. His breath is ragged, the pleasure electric, lighting him up as he spills into the condom. He sags onto her as little aftershocks ripple through him.

It's then he remembers she went without, and he sets his sights on remedying that. He disposes of the condom before laying her down onto the bed, giving her nipples some teasing sucks as his fingers make their way inside her. She's still so wet, so tight, so close. Her belly jumps with anticipation as he licks a line down it right to her clit. He doesn't waste any time, she doesn't need to be teased, was right on edge but stuck. He's hoping a different kind of attention, firm presses to her g-spot and quick sucks to her clit, will allow her to let go. Hopes that her frustration over being stuck before won't prevent her from coming now. Hopes she won't try too hard to make it happen such that she gets in her own way.

He's not sure which it is but the more he tries to rile her up, the more frustrated she becomes. He's giving it his all, but it doesn't seem to be enough. Finally, he stops because this isn't working, if anything it's making things worse.

Her breath is coming out in short hitching pants, so fast he's worried she's going to start hyperventilating. He intended to ask what he could do to help her get there, if she needed something stronger like one of her toys, but then he looks at her face.

Her eyes are watering, then a single tear slips down as the speed of her breath increases. He slides up the bed, takes her in his arms and asks, "What's wrong, darling?" and she breaks down, letting out loud forceful sobs, her body shaking against him. She says nothing nor does he, just lets her cry, holding her close, his hand trailing soothingly along her skin.

He can tell she's trying to stop crying, can see how she's frustrated that she can't, and so he urges, "It's all right, darling, let it all out."

It breaks his heart that she's so upset. Though he wants to know why, this is not the time. He feels useless and helpless as she cries, but she stays tucked in his arms, so he hopes it's giving her some measure of comfort. He pulls a blanket up over their naked bodies, so they don't get cold and waits her out.

He loses track of how long she cries for, but eventually the shaking sobs die down, and she reaches for a Kleenex to blow her nose.

She takes in a few breaths, her hand on her stomach, eyes pressed shut, centring herself. He waits, unsure what he should be doing.

"I'm sorry," she whispers her eyes downcast.

"Don't be," he says, grabbing her hand in his and squeezing tightly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head and asks quietly, "Can you just hold me?"

He nods, and she urges him to lay down, curling herself into him. He's still worried, but he won't push her, just does what she asks. They sit in silence, and he feels when she starts to really relax, the way the tension bleeds out of her as she leans on him. He takes comfort in it. She lets out a cute little sigh, and her eyes flutter shut. Her breathing starts to slow, and he realizes she's falling asleep.

He reaches for her bedside lamp, careful not to disturb her, and turns it off. He presses a soft kiss to the top of her hair, then shifts a bit, so he's comfortable, and slowly falls asleep

* * *

Regina wakes up basically on top of Robin. She has a moment of confusion as to how they got here, until she remembers the night before. She'd been riding the edge of a panic attack all day, and when nothing else worked, she called on Robin hoping sex would fix it. What she didn't count on was her anxiety preventing her from coming, and that the frustration over that would make her even more anxious.

She couldn't get out of her head, couldn't stop thinking about how she was failing everything, including this. How she couldn't even manage to get sex right. She should have realized that level of anxiety was not going to go away. Should have just let herself panic when she felt it coming on because her efforts to delay it made it so much worse. Her anxiety is the worst it's ever been, and she thinks it's time to throw in the towel and admit she needs some help. She cannot go on like this, can't keep starting her days with that lingering tension in her diaphragm, and the fear that something will set it off and make it spiral.

She'd noticed she'd been more anxious than usual, but she blamed it on stress, thought that she could push through it, and once the initial source of stress was gone she'd be fine. Except that what kept happening is a new source would pop up, then she'd tell herself after that she'd be fine. She should have realized her anxiety was the problem, that the lingering anxiousness is what was making her fixate on things, that it was creating the stress and not the other way around.

She's so embarrassed Robin saw her like that. Embarrassed she let it get that far. She should have sought out treatment sooner, should have realized she needed help, but she didn't. And now, as a result, she cried her eyes out in front of him, something she's going to have to explain—just the thought has tension building in her again, fuck.

Regina Mills doesn't cry in front of people. She doesn't let anyone see her weakness. Even when her mother cuts her down, gets her good with hurtful comments, she keeps it all inside, can pretend it doesn't touch her when she's sobbing on the inside. Then she'll excuse herself, find a space alone where she won't be disturbed and let it all out. He saw a side of her no one sees—Robin, the guy she's supposed to be casually fucking. It's a total disaster. That was far too intimate. She feels raw, exposed and edgy.

She slips out of bed carefully, sliding off the end, so she doesn't wake him. To top it all off, she still doesn't have her period. It's late, and she's never late, but she can't even let herself think about the implications of that, or she'll panic. She focuses on her breathing, on the few exercises she knows that help to keep the anxiety at bay.

She's nervous when she emerges from the bathroom, still has a bit of lingering tension, but it's not nearly as bad. She's going to tell him the truth—that she had an anxiety attack, but she'll downplay the intimacy of it. He doesn't need to know that.

She'll remind him (and herself) that they are casual, will reinforce the rules of this, and also ask the question she's been dying to have confirmed—whether he's sleeping with Emma Swan or not. As much as she'd hate it, it would probably be good if he was, would help her get her feelings in check. She's past the point of denying she has any, she does, and denial isn't going to fix it. What will, is being firm on what they are doing, and how casual it is. She's been spending too much time with him. She knows he's staying in Kingston for reading week and she'll be in Toronto, and that distance will be good for her, allow her to reflect on everything and get herself in check.

She should stop sleeping with him, but the sex is so damn good, so maybe as long as her feelings don't grow, it will be fine. All this can be is sex, so she needs to accept that and move on.

She's just finished getting dressed when Robin stirs, slurring out a, "Good morning," when his eyes open.

"Morning," she replies, then decides she'll wait until he's awake and caffeinated to have the talk. "I'm going to go make some coffee and eggs, come down when you are ready."

"Mm, thanks, love, that's perfect."

She hates that her stupid heart stutters at the endearment that she knows means nothing, he called her that their first night for god's sake. It's been a while since he said it outside of the throes, but he has before, it means nothing. This, this is why they need to have a talk, she needs to stop being ridiculous and reading way too much into things.

She's finishing up the eggs when Robin makes his way downstairs. He grabs the mug sitting beside her espresso machine, the one she made for him, and then asks if she wants any help.

"Can you grab plates?" she asks, knowing he's been here enough to know where they are. Sure enough, he opens the right cabinet and grabs out two big plates as the toaster oven dings.

He feels at home enough that doesn't ask, just opens the door and sets toast on each plate. It's what she wants for her friends, wants them to feel at ease and at home at her place, but with him, it makes her uneasy. Unknowingly she's integrated him so much into her life, and that comfort is nice but also dangerous. She needs boundaries if she's going to keep her feelings in check.

He comes over, tries to press a kiss to her cheek, but she awkwardly dodges it, taking one of the plates from him and placing over half the eggs on it and passing it back to him. She gestures for him to sit, and he does as she puts the rest on her plate.

It's awkward when she sits down, and she only makes it through a few bites before she feels the need to speak. "I have anxiety, and I thought I could use sex to prevent well… that, but um, I was already too far gone. Anyway, I have it handled. I'm going to go see Student Services, and, uh, get some help."

He's just taken a bite, and she can tell he wants to say something, but has to wait to swallow. After he does, he asks, "Are you okay? Now, I mean."

She nods, "I am, that was not pleasant, but I do feel better now."

"That's good."

The conversation lapses until their plates are empty, then she braces herself, knowing what she needs to say, but dreading it.

He gets up, takes her plate as well, and puts both in the dishwasher.

"Robin," she starts when he's finished, waiting for him to turn toward her before continuing, "I, um…" fuck, she has no idea how to start this conversation because 'are you fucking Emma Swan?' is not a proper introduction.

"What's up?" he asks, his eyes colouring with concern and oh, crap.

"Well we're casual, we're not exclusive, and you don't have to tell me, but I think it would be helpful to know who else you are sleeping with." That sounds reasonable, right? God, she hopes so.

But maybe not because his face twists at her words. "I'm not, I wasn't sure whether we were exclusive or not."

She tries not to show her relief. "Oh, well we aren't, so I mean feel free… Just please use condoms. You don't want to catch anything." Fuck, that was a really stupid thing to say. He's eyeing her strangely, and she's going to shut up because she only seems to be digging herself in deeper.

He looks at her for a moment and then asks, "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Sleeping with anyone else."

She settles on, "Not presently, but I will let you know when that changes." That's casual sounding, right?

"Okay."

She doesn't know what to make of the look on his face, but then he's standing up, and coming toward her. He pulls her up out of her seat, pushing her onto the table as he kisses her hard. Her legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he bites at her bottom lip. She's not sure what brought this on, but she is not complaining. He's hungry and desperate for her, and she is lighting up, more so than usual. She's already wet, and he's barely done anything.

He's all teeth today, probably getting her back for last night, and she _loves_ it. She moans harshly when he nips at her clavicle, and he does it again harder, which has her choking on another moan. It's good, so good.

He tugs off her shirt, throwing it onto the floor and then continuing his feast of her neck. She starts to rock into him, needing some friction against her clit. He doesn't disappoint, rocks back into her in a way that has her gasping.

"Oh _fuck_ , god like that," she gasps as he does something magical with his tongue against her jaw. He keeps it up until she's panting, desperately rocking against him seeking more pressure against her aching clit. She's so consumed she doesn't even notice him unclasping her bra until he removes it and moves to tease her breasts.

She lets out a whiny, "Uhhh," when she loses him against her. His mouth teases at her breasts, slowly kissing closer and closer to her hard nipples.

"Mmm, please," she pants and then gasps an, "Oh," when his hand comes to rub firmly over her crotch. He's a little too far down, so she takes her hand and guides him right where he needs to be, crying out, "OH, yes!" at the sensation. It's surprisingly good even though he isn't directly touching her. The firm pressure against her clit has her winding tighter.

Then his mouth finally descends on her nipple, sucking hard, and the combination of his lips on her and that delicious pressure against her clit has her head falling back as she moans. He keeps at her nipple, sucking and nipping firmly, probably hard enough to make a mark, but she can't be bothered to care about that as she crests higher and higher. Then he switches sides—fuck, that's good—this one is more sensitive. She gasps and writhes as he transitions to firm spirals against her clit, and oh god, oh god, she's close, suddenly so fucking close.

She lets out a whiny groan when his mouth leaves her nipple, but then it's replaced by his fingers twisting and rubbing, and okay that's acceptable that's nice, that's _Oh_.

His tongue flicks up her neck, and then he's sucking her earlobe, and god, he knows what this does to her, has her clenching and throbbing, crying out something ridiculously desperate.

He starts to whisper in her ear, and all she can do is whimper. "Gunna make you feel so fucking good love, gunna make you come on my tongue in this kitchen." She moans at the thought, starts to tremor when he continues, "Going to kiss your thighs until you beg for it, suck your clit nice and hard, rub my tongue over it, fuck you with my fingers—"

She interrupts him with a, "Gah-ah" as orgasm floods her, her back bowing as sweet relief rushes through her veins.

She can't respond to his gasped, "Are you coming for me, love?" because of the acute sensation, but she thinks she manages to nod amidst the shuddery bliss. She twitches when it hits that edge of too much, and his hand falls away immediately, leaving her breathless, satisfied, but not sated. She wants more, just needs a minute.

He uses the time productively, gets her out of her leggings and soaked underwear, setting a chair between her thighs and—oh fuck—parking himself in it.

He plants sucking kisses up her right thigh that make her belly clench and everything inside goes hot again. He sucks at the hinge of her hips, and she writhes as she moans at the oh so pleasant sensation. Then he switches sides, trailing up her left thigh as she gasps her appreciation. Her arousal winds back up at the action, and the anticipation has her breath deepening. She's loud when he sucks and then licks down the line of her thigh, but it's so good, and he is so close to where she needs him. He does it again and again, licking that sensitive skin and oh god, holy shit, it's amazing.

She groans her frustration when he diverts off, kissing down her right thigh. He chuckles into her skin at that, but continues to tease. He makes it all the way down to her knee before he starts a path back up, this time nipping at her thigh. It hurts a little, but hurts _good_ , has the ache in her clit growing, has her arousal building even more. By the time he gives the other side the same treatment, her clit is throbbing, begging for more stimulation.

He plants soft kisses to her lips, his hands gripping at her thighs, spreading her open for him. He moves oh so slowly in, giving light sucks to her inner lips as she grows more and more desperate. She's a goner as soon as his mouth touches her clit, gasping and writhing. So of course he only stays for a second, then slides his tongue down and into her.

"No, mmm, please, my, my c-clit, please."

He smirks up at her, clearly delighted by how riled she is. She needs to come now, and he knows it. He keeps teasing, and she feels like she might spontaneously combust.

"God, please, please, I need to come, make me come, Robin."

He stops then, eyes burning into her as he says, "Say that again."

She's too desperate to do anything but obey. "Please, please, make me come."

"Say my name," he commands, and that shouldn't be hot but it is.

"Robin, fuck, Please make me come, _Robin_ ," she begs and watches as his eyes darken.

"How?"

"Oh god, suck my clit, _please_." Fuck, just the thought has her clenching. She is way too far gone.

"What would you give me to do that?"

"Oh, fuck, anything, please. I _need_ your tongue, please."

She cries out when he finally obeys, his tongue flicking firmly over her needy, swollen clit. It's perfect, just what she needs as she skitters toward the edge. Then he's sucking strongly, and she gasps, "Don't stop," and scratch that, this is exactly what she needs.

She nearly kills him when he does the opposite and stops. "You told me you like denial," he teases, and yes, she did say that, and she does, but this is torture, delicious torture, but still torture. She can feel her rapid pulse in her clit, she was so close, is still so close, and she needs him to make her come.

His tongue slides lightly over her clit. It's not enough, but she still cries out, hips bucking. She feels him chuckle into her, that bastard. She pushes him into her, gasping when he firms up those licks, but it's only a for a second.

She whimpers when he pulls away from her, his fingers slip inside her, crooking up, pleasure pulsing out from firm thumps against that spot. "Oh, f-fuck."

"You like that, darling?" he asks, his tone detached and uninterested, there's something about it that is so sexy she moans while she nods. "Your orgasm is mine, you don't get to come until I let you."

She clenches at his words and oh god, oh god. This is so hot, he's hitting her perfectly, and she is so fucking close, so much so that if he just touched her clit, she'd come on the spot.

"Please Robin, god, I n-eed you to let me. Please."

"Not quite yet, you can take a little more." She mewls in response, she's not so sure, everything inside is so tight, coiled and ready to spring out. This feels amazing, riding this edge, but she needs release, needs to spill over and feel that flood of pleasure.

"I _need_ to come. Oh, fuck—I'm gonna, ah."

He nips at her neck, slowing his fingers, "No, you aren't."

She doesn't manage more than a, "Mmmph."

Everything feels heightened, even these slow passes against her g-spot have her gasping, she feels it deep inside her, just because it's not enough to make her come doesn't mean it doesn't feel fantastic; it does, electric heat emanating out from each one, making her wetter, making her clit even needier.

He kisses down her stomach, not even close to where she needs but the anticipation has her moaning loudly. He laughs into her stomach and then commands, "Tell me your orgasm is mine."

" _Oh_ , my orgasm is yours, my—mmm—is yours, please let me have it."

"Okay, love, you can come."

Her body relaxes, relief finally in sight, but only for a second because his fingers start back up those firm thumps and his lips cover her clit, and, "OH GOD, d-on't stahhhp."

This time he listens and her orgasm builds rapidly, those firm sucks making everything inside go tight and hot. It isn't thirty more seconds before she's crying out as orgasm overtakes her. She comes hard, hot, intense waves radiating out from where he's sucking at her. She feels the pleasure rolling through her, acute in her clit rippling out in a way that is so fucking good. Each thump of his fingers pushes the wave back up, stops it from cresting, drawing it out splendidly. Somehow she is still coming, bliss still coursing through her and she can't stop moaning and writhing. She doesn't know what she's moaning, just that she is, too consumed by the sensation.

She slowly, slowly starts to come down, shaking from the force of her orgasm.

"Holy fuck," she gasps when he gives her one last light suck, letting her clit pop from his lips. He's so smug, and he deserves to feel that way because that was unreal.

She's pulling in fast breaths, wills herself to slow down her racing heart so she can fuck him into the ground and wipe that smug smirk off of his face. He hasn't left his perch in the chair which gives her an idea, she thinks of that interrupted lap dance and knows just how she wants to do this.

"Stay," she tells him as she gets up to grab a condom from the stash that's still in her tool drawer. He doesn't listen though, when she's fishing out what she wants, she feels hands encircle her waist, then his mouth is on her neck. She arches into his touch, loves the feel of his hands on her, of his mouth on her. He's turning her and she follows his lead, wrapping her arms around his neck, condom still grasped in her fingers as she kisses him soundly. Her tongue slides to meet his as she pushes him back toward the chair.

He's still fully clothed and that needs to change. She tosses the condom onto the table and tugs at his shirt. He pulls it off and she takes a second to admire his toned chest before kissing down it. He's panting as she descends, breathing out a, "Fuck, love," that has her arousal building back up.

He is so hard, visibly straining in his jeans. She kneels, grasping his hips for balance and then undoes his fly, pushing off his jeans and his boxers too.

The desperate sound he makes when she licks down the crease of his hip has her clenching, so she does the other side, delighting when he makes that erotic noise once again. He mouth moves in closer to where he's hard and waiting and his cock twitches with anticipation. She licks teasingly up his length, avoiding his head, and swirling her tongue around the width of him before taking one of his balls into her mouth and sucking.

"Christ, love," he gasps, his hand coming to comb through her hair. She's not sure if it's the action or that sound that makes her shiver but she does, and god, she cannot wait to have him inside her.

But first, she's going to get him nice and wet. To that end she laves her tongue up his shaft until her tongue is at his tip, then takes him in her mouth. He groans as she does and it suprs her, has her sliding him in as far as she can go before pulling back and focusing her attention where he's most sensitive.

He's gasping, those soft sounds of his pleasure lighting her up as she eases off, licking a line down him and slowly back up as his breath catches.

She slips her lips over his head, sucks and then swoops down, giving him a couple fast, deep passes that have him bucking and crying out, in a way that makes her blazing hot for him.

She wants him, now, so she pulls away and reaches for that condom, standing up and bending awkwardly to cover him and then sinking down. She lets out a throaty moan, one that he echos as he fills her. He feels thick and so good, every inch stretching her deliciously. She moans loudly when all of him is inside her because his pelvic bone lines up perfectly with her clit.

She rubs against it and gasps, sensation radiating out. She could rub herself off on him so easily like this and might, but then he's lifting her hips a little and pulling her back, using his strong arms to thrust for her, and oh god, is it ever good. She doesn't have quite the leverage she'd like because her feet don't quite hit the ground. She shifts a little and then he's hitting her g-spot, the angle still allowing her to grind her clit against him, and oh fuck, this isn't going to take long.

Especially when he rasps, "Fuck, you look so hot right down, darling, can't wait to feel you come on my cock, take me deep, love, rub on me like you need. Don't stop until you've come, wanna feel it."

She rocks her hips, not all that well, but he's helping and though it's nothing hard or fast, the angle is fucking perfect, he feels amazing, his hands helping to guide her against him, the friction against her clit building her higher and higher.

"You like it like this, love?" he asks as he pinches her nipple in just the right way. Heat streaks through her and she's rocking into him harder, chasing her orgasm as she gets closer.

"Yes," she hisses, her mind a bit too distracted by the sex to come up with anything better.

His one hand kneads her ass firmly, and god, does she ever love when he grabs her—there's something so hot about it.

"I like _that,_ " she moans.

"Yeah, you like when I grab you?"

"Mmm, fuck, yes!"

Her head tips back and the heat grows as they keep up this slow but steady pace that's undoing her. This is working for her, and bless him, Robin doesn't try to change anything, just keeps giving her what she needs.

He tips her face to kiss her and somehow his hand ends up pressed against her neck, in a way where if he squeezed he'd be choking her. The idea excites her and when he moves his hand she presses it back firmly around her neck.

"Oh, fuck," he groans eyes wide and burning into her, "You want me to choke you, love?"

And she does, she really does. The idea is hot and she trusts him, more than she has anyone in a long time. She's vulnerable to him, but in this way it's not at all frightening, the opposite in fact, the element of risk to it is exhilarating. She knows he would never hurt her, knows that she's safe, but there's still that delicious thrill of danger when his hand squeezes around her neck.

She's panting, arching into his grasp, rocking into him, and it's fucking perfect. He releases her neck, nips at her jaw and then grabs again, making her breath catch.

Within minutes she's clutching at his arm, nails gouging into firm muscle as she's overcome with the flood of release. It shimmies up her spine and down her legs, leaving sheer satisfaction in its wake.

She stops, needing a moment, and also knowing the sort of pace she can do at this angle won't finish him quickly. He was enjoying it, she knows that, but he wasn't desperate and needy the way she wanted him, she'd have to take him quicker for that, in a way that requires more leverage than she has in this chair.

He's waiting her out and there's something so sweet about that, about how considerate he always is during, how he foregoes his own pleasure as long as possible to ensure she gets what she needs.

She slowly pulls off of him and they both groan as they separate. His eyes question her plan here, which she can understand, so she tells him, "Can't fuck you hard like that."

She watches as his eyes darken and then he's standing too. They trade hot kisses for a moment, him pressing up against her belly. It makes her want him again, makes her feel like she could go again, like she isn't three orgasms in already. She doesn't know what it is about him that makes her nearly insatiable, but she loves it.

"Turn around, darling, bend over, hands on the table," he rasps, and that is not what she was planning, but fuck, if it doesn't sound good. She follows the command, placing her hands onto the table and pressing her ass toward him.

He thrusts into her and starts taking her hard, his hands gripping at her hips. She can hear their skin slapping together over their moans as he fucks her fast and deep. Tension starts to grow in her lower belly from those thumps against her g-spot. He's hitting her just right and she's moaning out encouragements as she builds back up. She opens her eyes, turning her head over her shoulder to look at him. He's biting his lip, staring down at where they are coming together. He looks so sexy like this. He looks up, catches her eye for a second and then he's moaning low in his throat, and she lets her own out, her head falling back down, eyes shutting again. She's louder and that won't do.

She clenches on him and shivers at the feeling, delighting in the sexy as hell forceful gasp he lets out in response. That's more like it. She does it again, and he _moans_. God that's hot, she loves hearing what she does to him.

"Fuck, you feel so good, love, so tight against my cock."

She arches and his hand catches her hair, pulling slightly at a knot in a way that has her trembling.

"Oh god, fuck, _do that_ _again,"_ she manages to get out.

What he does is even better, he pulls hard at her hair, yanking her head up in a way that changes the angle so he's pressed even more firmly against her g-spot with each thrust. She writhes and breathes, "Oh, yes."

Her heart is pounding, tension building. He feels so damn good she thinks she might be able to come just from this, but he's getting close, is urging her to rub her clit, to come for him and she wants that. She shifts her hand down to rub at the swollen nub, yelping at the sudden influx of stronger pleasure. She's suddenly right there.

"Yes, that's it, darling. I feel it, come on me, please, love, want to feel you c-come. I'm so close, _fuck_ , please."

She can't respond, can't do anything but feel as the tension grows and he continues, "God, need to—Ah—feel you come. You—god, love—feel _amazing_. I'm so close, please let g-o for me. Need you to—"

She shrieks as orgasm overcomes her, the pleasure hot and intense as her insides scrunch. She vaguely hears his hissed, "Oh fuck, yes, love, that's it," through the rapture. She's trembling, curling in on herself as she's overtaken the sublime feeling. Then he lets out this lustful and relieved groan she knows means he's coming and she moans in response.

He collapses atop of her and they both take a couple of minutes to come down, him staying buried inside her as she quakes with little aftershocks.

That was magnificent. Holy shit, that was absolutely incredible. They should start every day like that—she'd die, but holy fuck, what a way to go. If this is going to be what he does after sleepovers then he can stay anytime, jesus. She can tell she's about to lose her post-sex buzz because her brain starts to fixate on why that's not a good idea, and she banishes the thought. She stands fully, stretching, and he slides out of her. His hands graze up her back as she arches and she turns, meeting his waiting lips for a lazy peck. They stay like that for a couple of minutes, trading languid kisses before she makes the mistake of looking at the clock and realizing how long they wasted this morning. It's nearly noon, and they have torts class at 1:30. She reluctantly leaves his embrace, gesturing toward the clock. He grimaces as he looks and gathers his strewn clothing.

They linger saying goodbye too, after he's dressed, trading kisses at her door. She should stop but is indulging in it just for today. This whole morning—well after the awkward conversation—has felt like an intimate bubble, one it seems they are both reluctant to leave. Thank god Professor Hopper left this weeks Legal Research and Writing as time to work in their oral submissions, no need to come to class because this wouldn't have happened if they had had class.

Someone on the street whistles and they finally break apart. She has to rush after that, a quick shower, hair braided, still wet, so she can make it to class on time.

She has to cover some marks but they are light and should (had better) fade by the end of the day.

She looks around the class as they wait for Professor Gepetto and locks eyes with him. He smiles and it makes her feel all warm—shit. But since she's already decided for today she's indulging, she pushes that thought away and smiles back at him.

* * *

He doesn't know what to do. It's Friday, classes are done, it's the start of reading week and he should be happy, but he's not.

He can't stop thinking back to Regina's 'not presently,' and the clear insinuation she'd be sleeping with someone else at some point soon. It bothers him, had him being perhaps too possessive during the sex, but she had eaten it up, so it seemed it was okay.

He's in a mess of his own making, has fallen far too hard for a woman who made it clear from the get go they were casual. He's not sure what exactly he was hoping to accomplish here. Did he think he would win her over with good sex? This, how poorly he's feeling now, this is why you don't start something casual with someone you have feelings for. It will inevitably end up with you getting hurt, as he's feeling now, with no right to.

It's hard because sometimes it really feels like they are together, or maybe not together but that she has feelings for him. He's obviously been reading too much into things, needs to snap out of it. Really he needs to end it, keeping this going will only hurt him more. But he's weak—weak, naive and hopeful. Even though the writing is on the wall, he can't help but wonder if they could make more work, if she'd be willing to give him a chance.

Every time he's certain she'd be amenable and he starts to build his courage to ask, she beats him to the punch with something that makes it clear he was wrong. If he was smart he wouldn't keep doing this, but he's not so he will, and will inevitably fall in deeper, take things that aren't really signs to mean that shes interested and end up with a broken heart.

The thing is, no matter what, he's going to have an aching heart, so that makes it easier to push off. Afterall, why would anyone willingly cause themselves pain?

He needs to get out of his head, needs to stop thinking about it all. Besides, Regina has interviews during Reading Week that will keep her busy, so it's not like she'll be spending the week screwing someone else. Of course his traitorous brain reminds him she finds out whether she has a job Thursday night, and either way there will be plenty of alcohol, a recipe for a new hook up, but no, he's not going to go there.

So when John invites him out to a bar with Killian and some of the other guys he agrees. A night with the boys is just what he needs to get his mind off of Regina, or so he thinks.

As it turns out, the guys are using the night to pick up women and while that's probably something he should be doing to remind himself his not relationship is casual, he has no interest in it.

Instead, he entertains himself by watching Killian strike out. He's not at all surprised when one woman throws a drink in his face after Killian gives her a bad line about dropping his anchor in her island. He doesn't know how he comes up with the stuff, or why on Earth he thinks it's a good idea, but it's some entertainment for him.

He's not close with Killian but what he really does like about him is that even though he's a shameless flirt, and sometimes goes for over the top or even gross pick up lines, he's not inappropriate. He's flirty but not grabby, isn't one of those morons who thinks all women want him or that he can just grope whoever he wants. He likes to make an effort but as soon as there's a no he's out of there and done. Robin respects that, everyone should be that way, but sadly most playboys like Killian aren't, and it's terrible.

Killian is not perfect, needs to learn a thing or two about sensing when a woman is uncomfortable—probably would have saved him that drink in the face—but he's not horrible, is not the kind of guy Robin refuses to associate with.

To Robin's amusement, the drink thrower saddles up beside him and John and starts making conversation. She's leaning in, eyelashes fluttering, finding excuses to touch his arm, and he probably should be flattered, she is cute, but blonde and fake blonde from the looks of it, which really isn't his thing. But Killian notices and scowls, so he has to play along for a bit. He flirts half assedly, and she eats it up like it was sincere, and apparently Killian's not the only one who's slightly oblivious.

He ends up having to tell her he's not interested because she gets more clingy and starts suggesting they leave together.

"What are you, gay?" she huffs, then storms off as he rolls his eyes. Wow, what a real stunner. He laughs aloud when she slides back up beside Killian, apologizing for her earlier outburst. Good god they deserve each other, a pair of idiots. Killian, one he actually likes sometimes, this girl, not at all.

They start kissing at the bar and he goes to nudge John—he has to see this—only to realize John is off in the corner.

As he gets closer he spies a girl with John and well, he's not going to interrupt. But then he overhears John telling the girl about Merry and it dawns on him that John is using their kitten to pick up women.

He lingers, needing to know if that will work. It doesn't, well on that girl anyway, but he wingman's John with another girl who takes John's number so she can come visit the cute kitty.

He heads out after that, thoroughly entertained by his friends' antics. As he walks home, his minds drifts to Regina. She has to be home by now, is probably sleeping and if she's not, then stressing about her interviews, but he hopes it's the former. He knows she's going to kill it, that if anyone is going to get a job out of this process it will be her. She will win them over like she did him.

He can still remember the first time he really noticed her. He'd seen her around, obviously thought she was gorgeous, and smart, she'd answered a few questions in class he had no clue about, but wasn't looking to get to know her better. That is, until he heard her speak out, defend her views against a classmate's narrow minded perception of the world. He had been outraged by this guy's sexist, classist and probably racist views, but before he could say something Regina was tearing this guy a new one. Every word she said was informed and articulate—it was at that moment he realized just how brilliant she was, but also how brave. When she ended, the class had applauded, and she had an audience of people waiting to talk to her after so he didn't. But after that day he was always aware of her, wanted to know more about her and so he approached her whenever he could. He flirted, never successfully, learning a misconception was why after a month and half of failed attempts. He had only kept it up because he could tell he wasn't making her uncomfortable, that she liked it, even if she wasn't interested.

He wonders if things would have been different if she hadn't thought he was still with Marian, if maybe she would have accepted his advances earlier, if maybe they'd be together. It's a silly path to go down, but it occupies the time as he makes his way home.

He's out of breath when he arrives home, just from that brisk twenty minute walk and taking the stairs up a whole three floors, shit. He knows he's been letting his fitness go, but this is bad.

He keeps putting off going back to the gym even though there's a free one on campus, and decides now is the time. Starting tomorrow he's back at the gym, so before going to sleep he makes himself a little workout schedule.


	9. February IV

**Sorry it's been so long, I'm trying to get back into weekly updates but I might be inconsistent for the first little bit so bear with me.**

* * *

Robin's alone in the apartment for the first time in ages and for the rest of the week. John had left Saturday afternoon, and it's only Monday, but Robin is already bored and a bit lonely. It feels weird being here without talking to John at least four times a day. He's glad they have Merry, because he worries he would go insane without the presence of another living thing. He knows a couple of people have stuck around on reading week—Zelena, Emma, but no one he's close with. John had invited him to come back to his parents' house with him, but Robin had declined, thinking this would be a good time to get work done, and it has, but he's regretting his choice a little bit. It's not all that far, and if he gets too lonely he can always take the two and a half hour train to join them.

He also kind of wishes he succumbed to his dad's urging to go home for the week. He didn't first semester, hadn't planned on it for this week, but for some reason, his dad kept pushing him to come home. It's quite expensive to fly out, it's only one week, and he'll be back for the whole summer, so it had not seemed worth it.

His dad understood that, had supported it, until a month or so ago when he started sending Robin flight deals, and offering to pay for half of his flight. His dad swore it was because his mum misses him, but she'd expressed nothing of the sort to him, and acted like she had no idea what his dad was up to when Robin first mentioned it to her. In fact, she seemed kind of mad, and then his dad had scolded him saying he intended it to be a surprise. The whole thing was just odd. It left him with a weird feeling, this lingering sense that something is wrong, that they aren't telling him something.

He thinks it's that lingering suspicion, coupled with being all alone, that has him feeling off kilter. He's taken advantage of the time off though, went to the gym shortly after waking up both Saturday and Sunday. He's sore and embarrassingly out of shape, but he needs to go today too, needs to get back in the habit. Today is supposed to be leg day though, which he's already dreading, he knows it's going to be bad given the condition he's in.

He slept in today, late, and it was glorious. He didn't wake up until ten AM, and then looked at the time, rolled over and fell back asleep until 12:30. It's already two in the afternoon, and he's done nothing so far but have breakfast.

His mind wanders and he reaches for his phone, looking for a distraction so he can kill more time before he finally gets off his ass and goes to the gym.

He takes a cute picture of Merry, who's sleeping beside him on the sofa, sends it to John and Regina, then makes it his Snapchat story.

He's pleased when they both respond almost instantly. John sends a ridiculous picture of half of his face and the caption, ' _so cute'_ , and Regina replies with an, ' _Aw, what a sweetheart_ '.

He sends John the laughing emoji, tells him he looks stupid, then sends Regina a, _She really is, she's been all over me since John left and I love it. I'm thinking I'll be her favourite by the time the week is up._

Regina responds: _lol I didn't realize it was a competition_

He shoots back: _Everything is a competition. Where have you been lol_

He hopes it will make her laugh, she seems to enjoy his sense of humour. While he waits for her to respond John calls him a, "jerk," which he answers with an, "It's why you love me."

As it turns out, Regina does not find his joke about competition funny.

 _Everything is competition, really? That's too real right now Robin, too real_

And right, she's interviewing tomorrow, and that's all competition. _Sorry darling, but I know you are going to kill it. All those firms will be falling over themselves to score Regina Mills_

 _Haha if only_

 _Seriously, you are fucking brilliant and as soon as they hear you talk they are going to realize that. You are by far the smartest person in our year and you are so interesting, have great stories, are so passionate. They would all be stupid not to want you_

 _That's so sweet, thank you. Now I know who to call if I need a pep talk_

He's tempted to tell her he'd come do it in person in a heartbeat, but that's rather desperate, so he settles on: _Anytime, seriously. I know you've been stressed and I want to do whatever I can to help_

 _You are such a good friend Robin, I really appreciate it_

He'd love to be more than her friend, but it is what it is and at least he's doing well at this, can provide some small measure of comfort to her. He can't resist asking: _Should I call in the morning and remind you how awesome you are?_

 _I have to get up early, you should enjoy your vacation_

 _I am enjoying it and what time? I've been getting up to go to the gym anyway_

That's a total lie, but it's one he doesn't feel bad about especially once she calls him on it.

 _You getting up early, now that I find hard to believe lol. And my first one is at 10 so I'm leaving here by 9:15._

 _Lol you got me but are you on the subway or a streetcar? I can always call and pep talk you while you're travelling, unless you don't have service_

 _Streetcar, but seriously you don't have to_

 _I know, but I want to, let me do this_

He's maybe a little too proud when she concedes. _Okay, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow_

 _Yeah talk to you tomorrow :)_

Merry picks that moment to wake up and start meowing, wanting to be played with, so he does that for a solid half an hour and then finally makes his way to the gym.

* * *

She wants to throw up. Her stomach is in knots and her hands are shaky. The only good thing about her morning is that she finally, finally got her damn period, but the relief she is not pregnant is only slightly outweighing her annoyance over the timing.

She's dressed in a perfectly pressed suit, checking one last time for non-existent wrinkles and makeup smudges. She looks good, those dark circles from a night tossing and turning, thinking of all the ways she can fuck up her interview, covered well behind layers of makeup.

She tried to avoid her mother, but sadly couldn't, so she received a nice little lecture about how she had better not mess this up, about how embarrassing it would be if her daughter didn't make the cut. It's exactly the sort of pressure she doesn't need right now. She has enough of her own issues making this into more than it is, she doesn't need her mother piling it on, making this seem like it's life or death.

The reality is there are about fifty-five jobs, at least that's how many there were last year, and hundreds of students vying for them, and hundreds more who didn't get interviews. Last year only three of those fifty-five were from her school. Sometimes she finds that statistic comforting, a reminder that it is possible, but today all she can think about is how low it is, how there were probably at least thirty other people who made it here but didn't end up anywhere.

She needs to get a grip, needs to relax and be herself. She remembers Robin's words, and his promise to call her. She's tempted to call him, knows he will help keep her in a good place and not spiral, thinking about all the ways she can mess this up, but he's probably sleeping and she won't interrupt that. It was a sweet offer, but she's sure he won't actually go through with it, even though there's a part of her (a large one) that really hopes he does.

She runs into her father on the way out, and he accompanies her to the streetcar stop, providing gentle encouragements as he waits with her. He tells her no matter what, he's proud of her, proud she made it this far. He hugs her as the streetcar pulls up and she has to fight back ridiculous tears. God she wishes her mother was like this, wonders what it would be like to feel supported by both of her parents.

She banishes that thought, she should be grateful she has at least one good parent, others are not so lucky.

Her phone rings at 9:15 exactly, and she can't help but smile as Robin Locksley lights up her phone.

"Hey," she answers feeling silly about how happy she is he called.

"Hello darling, are you nervous?"

She sighs, "Oh god, so nervous, I barely slept last night."

"Oh, that's too bad, you have nothing to be nervous about though, if anyone can do it, you can."

His compliments bolster her so much, and she shouldn't be encouraging this, but she needs it right now. "You think so?"

"I know so!" he says with enough conviction she almost believes him. "Who else aced contracts? No one." She shakes her head even though he can't see it because that's not exactly true, Kathryn got a ninety. "And really you've already passed the 'are you smart enough' test, this is about 'are you an interesting person', which you are."

"I don't know about that."

"You are, you are so smart but you don't throw it in people's faces, you are so hardworking, thoughtful, and that shows in how you express yourself. I'm in awe of you, to be honest."

She giggles, "You are too much sometimes."

"But is it working?"

She laughs a little and admits, "Yeah, it is."

"Well then, I guess I'd better continue. You really care about your friends, and our world. You don't back away from a fight and are not afraid to tell someone when they are wrong. You are confident, brave and caring, which is a winning combination."

She can feel herself blushing at that, and is glad he can't see her. "You are quite good at this, you know? But let's be careful, we don't want my head to get too big before the interview."

"You are the smallest headed person I know." She hears him laugh and so she lets out the little snicker she was suppressing, "Yeah, admittedly that was not my best but you knew what I meant."

"I did…" she murmurs, still chuckling.

"Another thing we can add to your list, you are articulate, unlike me."

"You aren't _that_ bad," she teases

"Mmm what a ringing endorsement."

"Seriously though, thanks for this, I feel much calmer than when I left the house."

She can practically hear the grin she knows he's sporting. "Good, I'm glad to hear that. Are you almost there?"

"A couple more stops and then a quick walk, I'll be there in under ten minutes."

"Do you want me to stop then?"

"No, this is nice, as soon as you hang up my nerves will come back. Would you, um, distract me, just until I arrive at the building?"

"Of course."

He does just that, and they end up talking for another five minutes in the lobby (she had left early so had time to kill) before she finally lets him go.

* * *

The day flew by, though she's pretty sure she bombed the first interview—it was awkward and they asked questions like, "If you were an animal what would you be?" and, "Which fictional lawyer are you most like?"—but the other two went well.

She's at the reception for Blanchard Partners, with her one glass of wine that she will sip slowly, so she isn't the student who gets drunk and makes a fool of themselves. There's a huge framed portrait of Lester Blanchard, the founder of the firm, and Mary Margaret's grandfather, at the entrance to the boardroom where they are gathered. Because of her family connection, Regina's not at all shocked when she spies Mary Margaret across the room. She's more surprised when Mary Margaret gestures her over and then gives her a huge hug with a squealed, "Regina!"

She's not a hugger, not at all, but she leans in and fakes it as best she can, lord knows everyone here knows Mary Margaret, and Regina can't afford to make a bad impression.

Her interview had gone well, really well, and she got the call to schedule her second interview only an hour after she left. It's a really good sign, but she hasn't been asked to dinner, and she's done her research so she knows Blanchard Partners takes those they really want out for dinner. She doesn't think they'd do dinners tonight because of the reception, so she will only worry if tomorrow she doesn't get asked.

This whole process is something else, she can't imagine how people manage multiple interested firms. She had, of course, let herself dream about it, had planned out how she could make it work but so far only Blanchard Partners has reached out for a second interview, and since she only spent forty minutes at the awkward interview's reception and then booked it here, it's highly unlikely they'll be hiring her, and she's not even sure she would want them to anyway. That reception had been just as awkward as the interview and she thinks she finally gets what people mean what they talk about "fit" and how some places just weren't for them. That firm was _not_ for Regina.

She small talks with Mary Margaret for a while, and while normally you wouldn't spend your time talking with another student, needing to meet as many lawyers as possible, lawyers keep coming up to say hi to Mary Margaret and Mary Margaret has been introducing Regina.

The recruiter, Lisa, ends up in their little group, and pulls Regina away to introduce her to more of the class actions group, because she remembers Regina expressing interest in that practice area. Regina takes that as a good sign too, she can't imagine they'd be making the effort to introduce her if they weren't at least somewhat interested.

She gets into a really interesting conversation with one of the associates in the group, Elsa Arendelle, about the Facebook class action, and the increasing use of the class procedure for privacy breach actions. Elsa tells her about this case—which she makes a note to read—where the plaintiffs wanted to proceed under a pseudonym, and how she's judging the class actions moot on the weekend and an anonymous representative plaintiff is one of the issues.

Elsa asks who she has met in the room, then takes her over to meet two of the senior partners. They stop at the bar first and she decides to break her one drink rule, opting for another glass of wine.

She's nervous and a little starstruck when Elsa introduces her to Baron Samdi and George King, but she hides it well and the conversation flows easily.

"Ah, Leopold, there you are, have you met Regina?" George asks as Baron slips away.

"Hello, Regina," Leopold says with a smile that unnerves her. She reaches for his outstretched hand and tries not to shudder as his eyes drink her in hungrily.

"Regina Mills," she tells him as she shakes his hand then adds for good measure. "I went to the same Elementary school as your daughter."

His eyes light up with recognition, but there's still a desire there that creeps her out. "You're Cora's daughter."

She nods, "Yes, it's funny that after going to the same school as kids, Mary Margaret and I would end up at the same law school."

That changes his expression, thank god. "Oh, you are at Queens with her?"

"Yes, we don't have any of the same classes, but I see her around."

They chat for a bit, and she's pretty sure she catches him checking her out but tells herself she's being paranoid. She's the same age as his daughter, he might not really remember it because it's not like she and Mary Margaret were friends, but they were in the same grade, he must have seen her as a child, at school events.

Elsa's phone rings and she excuses herself, leaving Regina alone with Leopold, and it makes her intensely uncomfortable. She's sure she's reading way too much into it, but then his hand settles on her lower back and his lips near her ear to tell her, "Looks like you could use another drink."

She fights the urge to shudder and wonders what the polite way to tell him to get his hands off her is. She settles for sliding over and telling him, "I'm okay, thank you, I should go mingle more."

"Wait," he urges, and she freezes because he may not be the managing partner, but he's a Blanchard, and it's Blanchard Partners, so she does not want to offend him. "Who have you yet to meet? I'll introduce you."

She gestures at some guy across the room. She has no idea who he is but Leopold does, "Ah, Craig, I believe he's doing your interview tomorrow with me."

And oh, Leopold is on her panel tomorrow, well then, seems she won't be getting rid of him until he leaves her. Up until meeting Leopold, she'd been excited about Blanchard Partners, could really see herself here, but now she's not so sure. It's silly to let one person ruin her opinion of the firm, especially when they have over one hundred lawyers so the chances of her working with him are slim.

After she meets Craig—who like everyone other than Leopold, she takes an instant liking to—Leopold gets pulled away by the recruiter. She feels herself loosen and the night gets much better after that. She gets to talking with one of the articling students, who summered in 1L and 2L at the firm, and has done all of one project for Leopold in her time there. The discussion of how work is given and all the different lawyers Anna has worked with makes her feel a lot better. Even if she is right, and Leopold is a creep, she'll barely have to work with him, if at all.

* * *

It's 4:55 pm on Thursday. She's a bundle of nerves and time seems to have stopped. At five the firms call students and make their offers. She'd 'first choiced' Blanchard Partners, over dinner the previous night, had told them, "If you were to make an offer, I would accept it." She'd had a third interview today where they seemed to be searching for it again, so she'd repeated it. No one else had expressed interest, and she'd done enough research to know not saying it to someone is a surefire way not to get an offer even if the firm wants you. The whole process is stupid, firms aren't allowed to tell you they will make an offer and aren't supposed to ask if you'd accept, it's not supposed to have any effect, but yet, students are expected to offer it to ensure they get an offer.

Her heart is racing and it's only 4:57, time needs to move faster. She keeps staring down at her phone, willing it to ring. She knows it won't until five, it's against the rules, but she is dying here. It all comes down to the next few minutes, she doesn't know what she will do if her phone doesn't ring. It has to ring, it has to.

She paces around her room, her phone clutched in her hand, unlocking it every time the screen goes dim.

It dings and her heart nearly stops but it's just a text from Robin, _Good luck, let me know when you know :)_

That's sweet, she should answer but she seems unable to do anything but pace.

Her phone dings again, this time it's Mal. _Omg I think time has stopped_

She chuckles at that, she feels the same way. She goes to respond and then the time switches to 5:00, and as if on cue, her phone rings, Blanchard Partners, and oh, thank god.

She lets it ring once before she answers, doesn't want to seem too eager and then nearly drops it.

Her voice is shaky when she answers. "Hello?"

"Hi, Regina Mills?"

"Yes, this is."

"Hi, Regina, it's Craig, we met on Wednesday."

Her heart is pounding. She needs him to get to the point but doesn't want to be rude.

"Yes, I remember, it was lovely to meet you."

"I assume you know why I'm calling."

She lets out a breath, "I'm hoping it's good news."

"I'm calling to offer you a position as a summer student at Blanchard Partners."

Thank fucking god, she feels every muscle in her body relax as relief floods her. "I accept."

"Perfect, we'll send an email out to you and all the other students once we've locked them down with all the information about our summer program. In the interim, if you have any questions, you can email or call Lisa."

She cannot contain the giddy tone in her voice. "Okay, thank you so much."

"Take care Regina, goodbye."

She can't help it, she squeals once he hangs up the phone. She's done it. She is set now, holy fuck, it's amazing. No more job stress, she can focus on school and doing her best.

She sends a quick text to Robin, and copies the same message to Mal, before rushing down the stairs to look for her father. She finds him in the kitchen, breaking the news with a shaking voice. He's ecstatic for her, and they are still hugging when her mother walks in the door.

"What's all the fuss about?" she asks frowning, as if she didn't know what day it was.

Regina doesn't let her mother get her down she tells her, "I got the job at Blanchard Partners."

"Oh, that's nice, it's not Faskens but that's a good firm."

Regina grimaces, her mother would respond like that, diminishing her accomplishment. "It is a good firm. I'm very happy I got it."

"We should go celebrate. Where do you want to eat sweetheart?" her father asks.

She thinks on it for a minute, and they end up at her favourite Italian restaurant. Her father loves it too, her mother not so much, preferring fancier, more expensive places.

While at dinner Mal texts her and invites her for drinks at Earl's, and she readily agrees. She already knows Mal will be drowning her sorrows, and though she'd said she's fine and happy for Regina, she wants to see her in person, make sure she's okay.

When she makes it to Earl's, Mal has already been there for an hour with Killian and Jefferson. Though she had wine with dinner she's behind them. The three of them congratulate her and then order a round of shots to celebrate. They have many rounds, and she's happy to know even though none of them got a job—Killian and Jefferson didn't even get interviews—they are all genuinely happy for her.

The recruit is a quick topic of conversation, and she learns the only person they know of that got jobs is her. She tells them Mary Margaret did too, she got a text earlier in the night about how excited Mary Margaret was they'd be working together. She'd sent back congratulations and thankfully that had been the end of the conversation. She hadn't liked Mary Margaret when they were kids, but that was years ago, and they are going to work together so she should make the effort to get to know her.

"I'm going for a… smoke," Killian remarks, "if anyone wants to join."

Regina shakes her head, she's had a lot to drink and she is an occasional smoker when she drinks, but it's the end of February and still cold as fuck, so she wants to minimize her time outdoors.

"I'll be back," Mal tells her, then shuffles out of the booth with Killian.

It leaves just her and Jefferson.

"Having fun tonight?" he asks, and she nods.

"Yeah, I'm glad I came out."

"You going to join us at the club then?"

She grimaces. She didn't know that was the plan, she's not exactly dressed for the club and she's barely slept this week too stressed about interviews; she'd been planning on an earlyish night in. "Probably not."

Jefferson shakes his head. "You're not fun, how many more shots is it going to take to get you to come out?"

She laughs, "More than you can afford."

"I wouldn't count on that," he teases, then orders another round of tequila shots.

The shots arrive before Mal and Killian get back, and she's surprised when he cheers' her. After they down the shots, he grabs the third glass and gestures for her to take the last one. She shouldn't have it, she's already kind of drunk, but fuck it, she just got a job.

Everythings starting to get fuzzy when Mal and Killian finally get back.

"That took a while," she remarks without thinking.

Jefferson raises his eyebrows and gives Killian a look she doesn't understand, then says, "Did you, uh, get some snow."

She frowns, it's not supposed to snow tonight. She's about to ask when Mal tells her they need a picture. The boys keep photobombing so it takes a minute to get the perfect selfie, and by the time they are done she's forgotten what they were talking about before.

* * *

Robin is midway through Iron Man when Regina calls him. He's surprised, it's one AM and her texts had dropped off around ten, he'd thought she'd gone to bed but apparently not.

Her slurred "Hiii, Robin," tells him all he needs to know. She's drunk.

He chuckles as her answers, "Hi, Regina, sounds like you are having a good night."

She snickers for a couple of seconds, "Yeah, there were shots and _more shots_ ," she lowers her voice like she's going to tell him some big secret, "and now I'm _very_ drunk."

"You don't say, I never would have guessed."

She's too far gone to recognize his sarcasm, "Yeah."

He snickers, she's cute when she's drunk—she's cute all the time, really. "Where are you now?"

"In a cab on my way home."

And okay, good, "So what did you do tonight? Last I heard you were having drinks with Mal."

"Yeah, and Killian and Jefferson. They tried to convince me to go to a club with them."

"Tried? So you left when they went out."

She giggles, "No, they wore me down, I went for one dance and then one became two, and I ended up staying for a bit."

He can't help but ask, "Who'd you dance with?"

"Mal mostly, but Killian and Jefferson some too, Jefferson is really good dancer, good hips."

He laughs at that, he knows what she's getting at, he's seen Jefferson dance before and, "Well, yeah, you know he did ballroom for years right?"

She gasps, "Nooo way. Oh my god, _he_ was a dancer."

"Yeah, apparently he was quite good too. He quit before high school though."

"Wow, that's cool. Did you ever dance?"

"No, did you?"

He's surprised when she answers, "Mmm-hmm, I was in ballet from the time I was three."

"I didn't know that, when did you stop?"

"When I was thirteen. I wanted to quit violin to focus on dance and mother was so incensed she refused to pay for dance any more. I took a dance class as an elective in undergrad, mother was mad about that too."

That's another thing he didn't know, "You played the violin?"

"Yeah," she sighs, "For twelve years, mother picked it, it's not the instrument I would have chosen for myself, but I never had much say in my extracurriculars."

"That's insane."

"I know, I did eventually quit when I was sixteen, and I thought mother was going to have a heart attack when I told her. I got in so much trouble, I was grounded for two months because of it, you'd think I'd robbed somewhere, not decided to stop taking lessons I had no desire to take."

"Yeah, jeez, I didn't even get in that much trouble for my thefts."

She snorts a little laugh, "I almost forgot about that. Did you have any other teenage rebellions?"

"Not unless you count drinking beers with John in his parents' basement and telling them we were sleeping over at Mike's every time there was a field party."

"Where did you actually sleep?"

Merry chooses that moment to step on the remote, unpausing his movie. He drops his phone as he reaches for the remote and curses softly.

"Sorry about that," he mutters once he's resituated, "What were you asking?"

"I… I don't remember," she admits and breaks into a peal of laughter.

Merry jumps onto his lap so he pets her as he recalls, "Oh, wait, where I slept, I think."

"I wish you were sleeping here. Wish you were in my bed with me."

He groans, "I wish that too, can't wait to see you again. When are you back?"

"Late on Sunday, because Sunday is Daddy's sixtieth birthday, so we're going for dinner and then I'm catching the last train."

Dammit, he was hoping it was sooner. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you in class on Monday then."

"Yeah… um, maybe we could hang out after class. I have my oral arguments for my moot, Mal and I are the lucky ones that get to go first. But then I'll be free and I have a job, so there will be plenty to celebrate. And I really want to celebrate with you, naked"

He smirks, "I'd love that."

"What would you do?"

He raises a brow even though she can't see it. "Are you still in the cab?"

"Oh… yeah, but we've just turned onto my street, hang on a minute."

He hears parts of her conversation with the driver, she's paying with her card and the machine doesn't seem to be working. They get it eventually, and then she's stepping out the car and giving him a wholly unnecessary apology.

"Seriously, it's fine," he insists for the tenth time, and she finally relents.

"Fine, mmm."

He hears her stifle a yawn so he urges, "You should go to sleep, darling, it's late."

"I'm not ti—" she yawns again interrupting herself and his point was just made. "Okay fine, maybe a little, but I, um… it's nice talking to you."

"Call me anytime. I'm having a rather boring week and I really like talking to you."

"I also like _not_ talking with you, if you know what I mean."

He snickers at her insinuation. "Oh, I _love_ not talking with you, I can't wait to not talk after class on Monday."

"Me neither, I want you so badly. Oh god, is anyone…" He waits, hears her breathe a sigh of relief. "Got worried one of my parents was awake and would hear this."

"Hear what?"

"I have a proposition for you. What if we held back, until then."

"Held back?"

"Saved it, for each other, think about how good it will feel on Monday because we've been waiting."

And okay now he gets what she means, or at least he thinks he does, "No orgasms until Monday?"

"Yeah."

"How difficult do you want to make this?"

"Hmm?"

"I rather fancy the idea of getting you all hot and bothered, so you are dying for it on Monday."

He hears her breath catch, and then she's asking at a much lower volume, "Are you going to sext me constantly?"

He lowers his voice too as he tells her, "Only if you want me to."

She whispers back, "Oh god I do," and follows it with another yawn.

"Well, love, I think it's time for both of us to go to bed. I'll text you tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it, night Robin."

"Goodnight," he tells her before she hangs up.

Well, his weekend just got more interesting.


	10. February V

She could kill Robin Locksley. She knows in a way she asked for this, had commented she had gained some weight and wanted to get back in shape, and he had offered to take her to the gym. But she hadn't expected him to insist on it _now_. Not after their long weekend of sexting, of him telling her how he was going to tie her up and make her beg for it, edge her until she couldn't take anymore, and punish her if she disobeyed him. She'd expected to be naked by now; she spent the whole class anticipating being with him. Now he's saying they have to go to the gym first, have to earn their reward; it's ridiculous.

When she told him she wanted to test out masochism, the pain of blue balls (or whatever the female equivalent is) was _not_ what she had in mind. She had imagined more along the lines of being tied up, slapped, bitten, or maybe even cropped if she misbehaved, and she'd told him that. Had shared her fantasy of being entirely at his mercy, tied up, blindfolded and teased, for as long as she could stand and then some. Shared how she loved when he was rougher, when he pulled her hair, slapped her ass, choked her—things he already knew, but she put out there so she could ask for more. She doesn't know her limits, hasn't really experimented this way, just knows she likes the thrill of danger, of not being in control. Knows she likes that bite of pain amidst the pleasure. She's itching to try it, to experiment, learn what she can handle, and he knows it—she'd told him in explicit detail over the weekend. She told him how she had loved when he bit at her inner thighs, how she wanted to feel something even more intense, how she loved the idea of a whip or riding crop, feeling that stinging bite.

He had stopped by before class to "drop some things off," whispered in her ear how eager he was to make her beg, then kissed her so fiercely she had gone instantly wet. He had chuckled at her expression when he pulled away, insisting they head to class. Then he pulled her into a corner on their break, and all those hormones came rushing back when he started telling her how excited he was to tie her up, to bring her so close she could taste it and leave her hanging, right on the precipice. That had been a frequent feature of his sexts, how he was going to suck and suck at her clit, drive his fingers in deep, curved up to hit her g-spot, giving her firm pressure until she's right on the edge. How he was going to bury his tongue inside her, his cock, his fingers, her vibrator, make her writhe and moan, but not come, not right away. How he'd drive her up over and over again, sometimes letting her down gently, other times stopping only for a few seconds, letting her settle just a little before loading her body with sensation again. It's no wonder she couldn't keep her mind on the criminal law lecture, her mind too stuck on the delicious things he's told her he's going to do to her.

Of course, he hadn't mentioned they had to go to the gym first right away, no. Instead, he lulled her into a false sense of security by following her home, telling her how he couldn't wait for their night, pulling her into an alley and groping her amidst hot kisses, pressing his body against her. As soon as they were in her door, he pinned her up against it, binding her hands above her head as he kissed her hard, then sucked at that sensitive spot on her neck, his free hand rubbing over her already swollen and sensitive clit.

It was as her thighs started to tremble that he'd told her to get changed into gym clothes, then told her she wouldn't be coming any time soon, not until their workout was complete and they'd showered.

She had pouted, and Robin's whole demeanour had changed. He grabbed her face roughly and told her, "I will not stand for a bratty sub, keep up that attitude, and you'll have to be punished."

So yeah, that hadn't helped at all. Now all she can picture is getting cropped for being a brat when they get back, which is riling her up even more. It's not fair, he knows she wants that, and that has to be why he did it. She'd been clear, degradation and humiliation are not her thing. But she wants to obey, wants to submit, fully submit, and part of that is following his instructions.

She manages to keep her arousal at a low simmer on the way to the gym, which, thankfully, is not far at all from her house. She runs off most of her frustration during their warm-up. She's only mildly titillated when they move on to the machines, but it doesn't last long at all.

Robin's doing tricep pulldowns, which had kicked her ass, but she forgets all about that as she watches his arms flex and release. He's getting winded, panting with effort and it brings her mind to all the other times she's heard him like this. Then he lets out this guttural groan, just like the one he lets out when he's close, and everything in her lower half tightens. He repeats that sexy sound again and again as he finishes his set and Regina's arousal skyrockets. It's not just that he sounds so fucking sexy, it's also that he looks it working out. She's warm and flushed, not all from the workout.

She wonders if he's doing it on purpose, but she doesn't think so. He grunts as he finishes the last one and her mind flashes back to all the other times she's heard that sound, in the midst of mindblowing sex.

Fuck.

They've barely started their workout, and she's dying again. If he keeps making sounds like that she's not going to make it.

They make it through three more exercises with him sounding like that before she throws in the towel. "We need to be done."

He quirks a brow. "We've still got a few more things to get through, unless your muscles are toast."

"It's not that… I'm dying here."

He smirks, "Oh, you are?"

She looks around, ensuring no one is in earshot, "You have no idea how hot you sound when you are working out."

That smirk grows. "Is that so?"

"You make the same sounds you do when you are fucking me hard. It's… distracting."

He barely conceals his amusement. "Well, given what we have planned for tonight, I think it's rather perfect. In fact, I think I'll add a few more exercises, leave you stewing for even longer."

She gets him back by leaning in close—she does not want anyone hearing this—telling him in a low and hopefully sultry tone, "Every time you let out one of those low grunts I want to pull you to the back corner of this gym and start fucking you for everyone to see. Maybe take you in my mouth and suck at you until you make it again."

His jaw drops and good, she shouldn't be the only one hot and bothered. "Just, uh, just one more set, then we'll… _stretch each other out._ " He raises his brows with that last bit.

She can work with that. She'll tease him as they stretch, show off how limber she is. Years of dance left her with excellent baseline flexibility, and if she works at it, she can get really bendy.

He plays up his noises that last round and she snickers at him because his plan backfired. The noises sound fake, and so they are more amusing than arousing, much to his chagrin. He still looks hot as hell working out, but it's more tolerable when she doesn't have to hear the erotic soundtrack.

* * *

Fuck, Regina Mills is going to be the death of him. He has no idea how he's going to keep control long enough to give her what she wants, what they both want.

He's been dying to dom her hard, to tie her up, have her completely at his mercy. Their sex life has been otherworldy, so he hadn't thought to ask because he's been fully satisfied. And would have been never dominating her in that way if she hadn't asked him to.

They sexted all weekend, him telling her all the various ways he wanted to edge her before finally making her come, how he wanted to feel her slick wet heat against his cock, how he loves the sounds she makes when she's close, begging him not to stop. Then she'd went and told him how hot it was when he bit her thighs, how she wanted more of that, how she wanted to submit to him fully, have him test her limits—he had almost broken their no orgasms deal then, needing some relief after that confession.

They'd discussed it in detail, and their fantasies line up near perfectly which just makes it even hotter. As does her innocence, he knows he's not corrupting her, she brought it up and asked for it, she's no blushing virgin, but knowing that he will be the first one to take to her to that limit, well, it does things to him.

Regardless of what they are, that means something. This is one of the rare times he's sure he's right about that too. They've shared many things that could be considered meaningful, but can also mean nothing at all. But this is different. She may not appreciate the significance, but whether or not she does, it's there. There is an incredible amount of trust in letting someone push you to your limits, it's incredibly intimate, and she's chosen him. Regardless of any others, she's sleeping with (which he prays don't exist) she picked him for this, trusted him to bring her there safely.

He will do it, will give her exactly what she asked for, will push her farther she's ever been pushed, swamp her with new shades of bliss from long denial.

He will not give in to the temptation to fuck her in the gym change room, fast and hard, the way she'd mentioned when she teased him earlier. Will not bring to life the image he has not been able to get out of his head.

She's not helping him keep his mind out of the gutter, as she stretches out in ways he didn't know she could bend, her tight gray shorts leaving nothing to the imagination.

She keeps asking him to help, torturing him. She's taking the upper hand where she can, he knows it, but she's doing it damn well. He will have to right that later, show her who's in charge.

For now though, he'll do as she asks, positioning himself straddled over her right leg, she's laying down, the leg he's over is down and straight, and she's pulling her left toward her ear with both hands. She's asked him to push it further, so he does, presses her leg closer to her ear, listens to the way her breath catches, how she breathes into the stretch and how her leg slides farther down. She's so flexible, and it's giving him ideas. He brought bondage tape with him to her place, he had been planning on a simple position, arms above her head, ankles bound keeping her legs spread, but now all he can picture is spreading her into a nice vee and stretching her arms out and taping her ankles to her wrists.

Fuck, he should not be thinking about this while being so close to her scantily clad, sweaty body, so close to where she's told him she's already wet. He needs to look away, needs to stop thinking like this because he's already half hard and his gym shorts, though loose, won't hide a full mast erection.

He should look away, but she's a sight like this, one he wishes he had a picture of. They've agreed to go to the gym together so lucky him, if she sticks with it, he could see this six days a week. He swallows heavily, god, he may never get any work done if all of their gym sessions end like this, will be begging her to fuck him or furiously jerking off as soon he gets home.

"Time to switch," she says, and he climbs off of her, watching her readjust. He should not be staring at her crotch, should not be thinking about "accidentally" brushing her there when he goes to grab for her leg. He looks at her, and she's smirking, she knows what she's doing to him.

He looks around the stretching area, which is conveniently located in its own little corner, out of view of the rest of the gym. There are only three other people in the area with them, none are paying attention to them, so he takes a chance. He doesn't rub over her clit, even though he's desperate to, but he settles his hand at the curve of her ass and slides it up her inner thigh on his way to her ankle.

Her breath stutters, her leg shakes in her grip, and now he's the smug one.

It lasts for all of five seconds until she gives him a breathy command to, "push harder," and lets out this sound that goes straight to his cock when he does. Shit, okay, he needs to regain control of this situation. He has a long, _long_ wait for satisfaction. His need cannot get the better of him, no matter how hot she looks or sounds. She won't be coming for ages, which means neither will he.

He breathes a sigh of relief when she tells him she's done stretching. He leads her toward the changing rooms hand in hand. Since there's no one around, he pulls her into a corner and kisses her hard, nipping at her lower lip, then taking her mouth fiercely. He grips her ass, she's pressed snuggly against his semi, which feels amazing. He's supposed to be cooling down, and he will, after this indulgence.

She lets out this soft little sigh that's hot as hell, and he knows it's time to stop this. He pulls away breathless taking a second to look at her. She's breathing heavily too, her skin shining with sweat, eyes wide and hungry, her bottom lip reddened from the press of his teeth against it. He wants to kiss her again, wants to make her come and come, bury himself in her. She's sexy as sin, and his, at least for tonight.

"God, I can't wait to get home," she breathes, and he smirks.

"I'd prepare yourself for some waiting, darling," he tells her as he walks into the changing room.

He dawdles in there, partially because he expects her to take longer than him, and also because he needs some time away to focus, to get himself back in control. He keeps teasing her, will keep teasing her, but it's affecting him too, how could it not? He needs a bit of a break so he can proceed with what they've planned. They need to eat too, need to fuel up after the workout, and for the one they will have later.

They passed a Subway on their way to the gym. They'll stop there, grab a sub, eat, then go to her place to do things he can't think too hard about right now.

He knows she would feed him if he asked, she's an excellent cook, but while it's fun to make her wait, he doesn't want to make her work. She'll work for her orgasm sure, but not for anything else.

When he steps out of the change room, she's by the door waiting impatiently. She makes a comment wondering whether he's trying to single handedly break the women take longer than men stereotype, and he can't help the loud laugh that rips out of him in response. He loves her sass, the quick witted comments that flow from her, especially when it's biting snark. It's always entertaining, even when directed at him.

He tells her his plan for food as they walk out and she's agreeable. He takes her hand again, not thinking, only remembering this is not something they do when their fingers interlace, but she's not pulling away. He fights to keep a smile off his face as a result.

They eat in relative silence, both scarfing down their subs, her more daintily than him, but there's an urgency to her eating he doesn't usually see. It's her impatience he bets, her anticipation driving her to eat faster.

He bites into a particularly saucy bit, and feels barbecue sauce hit the side of his mouth. Regina snickers and raises a brow, clearly amused by his messy face. He chews his bite quickly, then flicks his tongue out to clean up. Regina's eyes watch his tongue, so he draws out the process.

"How classy," Regina remarks, before taking another bite of her sandwich. Once she swallows, she adds, "You know some of us know how to eat properly, without making a mess."

He raises his eyebrows at her as he gives her a ridiculous innuendo. "Oh, I know how to eat properly… but part of the fun is the mess." He lowers his voice a little, the next people are four tables over, but he likes to be cautious. "I'm going to eat _very well_ tonight. I'll spread you open, giving myself access to all of you so I can bury my face between your thighs, lick and suck at you until we are both wet."

Her jaw drops, her hand hovering with her sandwich frozen as she reacts to his words. She blinks, takes a shaky breath, swallows and recomposes herself, the sandwich in her hand still forgotten.

He can't help but ask, "Would you like that?"

She arches a brow, parrots back, "What do you think?" and sets down her sandwich without ever taking the bite he interrupted.

He keeps his voice low still, "I think you are already wet and needy for it, bet if I slid under this table and started sucking your clit the way you like, I could have you coming in two minutes. Maybe less even because of the thrill of exhibitionism."

"Robin," she hisses as she reaches for her drink, "stop that, we're in _public_."

He laughs at her indignance because he knows she's into it, knows her well enough to know she's exceptionally turned on right now. She doesn't want him to stop, not really.

"Are you wet right now?"

She rolls her eyes and goes back to eating her sandwich, pretending to ignore him.

He firms up his tone, makes it commanding but quiet. "When I ask a question, I expect an answer."

Her eyes widen, and she nods subtly. It's in answer to his question he's fairly sure but, "I'm waiting for that answer…"

She sucks in a breath, glances around for a minute, then tells him so quietly he almost can't hear. "So wet."

He groans softly, even though he already knew it something about her saying it here makes it even hotter.

"You are going to be like that for a while, love. Once we finish here, we'll go to your place get all soapy, and then the fun can begin."

"Begin?" she asks as he takes the last bite of his sandwich.

He chews and swallows before answering, something he wishes John would do instead of talking around his food. It's an odd thought to have adjacent to what he's about to say, so he shakes it off. "Oh yes, you see you won't be coming until nine."

"What?" she gasps, her face twisting.

He finishes off his drink as she stares at him. He knows she won't be satisfied with his answer, but he can't resist replying, "You heard me."

"But… that's… you can't be serious."

"Oh, I am," he assures, taking a bit of sadistic pleasure in how he's thrown her with that revelation.

"But that's almost two hours away."

He nods, and gathers his stuff, getting up from the table to dispose of his waste.

"You're the devil," is all she says as he sits back down. Then she goes back to scarfing down her dinner.

They get in her front door not fifteen minutes later. She takes off her shoes, as does he, then she rushes him toward the stairs. He would tease her about her impatience, but frankly, he's dying to see her naked again.

She steps onto the first step, and he grabs for her, taking her in his arms and kissing her, his hands coming down to those delicious shorts, giving her nice, firm ass a squeeze. He slides them up her back a bit, then under her shorts, pushing them down. She pulls away, turns and steps out of them and up one step. As they ascend the stairs, his hands are busy with her shirt. She's only in her sports bra and light purple knickers—they have a dark wet patch he's far too smug about—when they reach the top. She tugs at his shirt, and soon it's off. Her sports bra joins the pile of strewn clothing as they approach her bathroom.

Her hand cups where he's half hard, making him moan softly, before she deftly undoes his belt and fly, pushing his pants off in the doorway. She moves toward the shower, but he stops her, instead lifting her up onto the counter. He covers her neck with kisses as she moans, her legs wrapping around his waist and pressing him closer to her. He can feel how wet and warm she is even through her knickers. Christ, he needs to touch her, taste her, fuck her.

His hand slips down between them as his mouth moves down her chest, slowly approaching tight nipples that look desperate to be sucked. He moans into her skin as his fingers slide easily over her wet and swollen clit, gliding inside her easily because of how absolutely soaked she is.

He pauses for a moment, pushing off her underwear so he has more leverage for his task, this time slipping three fingers inside her.

She lets out a choked, "Oh god," in response and he feels her clench when his fingers find her g-spot and press.

"Mmm fuck, oh my god," she cries out as he grinds his palm against her clit and laves his tongue over her nipple. He sucks and licks, his fingers thumping steadily, as she writhes and moans, building closer to where he wants her.

His mouth leaves her tits to remind her, "You are not coming until I say so," and she trembles in response, moans going even higher as he tips her hips to give him a better angle and starts moving his fingers faster inside her.

"God, I—Ah, mmm—" She's trembling, starting to fold in on herself, her belly tight, thighs tense. She's close, but not quite there yet.

He brings his lips to her ear, sucking it between his teeth for a second, delighting in the predictable cry it draws out of her and how she grows tighter against his fingers. "Fuck you feel so good, darling, are you close?" She nods, and her hips buck.

"Are you going to come for me?" he asks. She gasps a frantic, _Mmm-hmm,_ then, _don't stop_.

"Tssk tssk," he says as he slows his fingers, keeping his palm off of her clit, ensuring she gets no friction, that there's no chance she'll spill over and ruin his plan. "Don't you remember, you aren't coming until nine. Now start the shower."

He watches as her face falls. He thinks she's going to say something, to complain but she doesn't. He pulls his fingers from her, backing up, giving her room to get down.

She whimpers at the loss of contact and he lets it pass. A choice he regrets when she drops to her knees, pushing his boxers down and taking him in her mouth. He gasps at the pleasure of her mouth, at the exquisite sucking pressure against his hard cock.

He tugs at her hair, taking a step back so he plops from her mouth, a trail of spit connecting them for a minute. She looks so hot on her knees for him, and he wants to give in, but it is not the time for that, he needs to rein it in. She's disobeyed him and no matter how good it felt, he can't allow it.

"I said to start the shower. Are you trying to annoy me?"

She schools her face into something appropriately contrite. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to—"

"I'm in charge here, not you, and it would serve you well to remember that."

She nods and leans into the tub, her ass looking fantastic as she turns on the water. She jumps when he gives it a light slap, nothing intense, yet, just a tease.

"Get in," he tells her. She steps in, him following and closing the curtain behind them. He grabs her shampoo off of the ledge and squeezes some out into his hand as she watches. It smells like coconut and apple, an intoxicating scent he's used to smelling in her hair, one that is uniquely her.

He steps in closer, and he watches her inhale sharply, her pupils dilating in response to his proximity. He loves how riled up she is, can't wait to drive her up even more.

For now, he washes her hair, a soothing touch with a bit of an unintentional head massage that has her sighing peacefully. It's soothing her so he indulges it, intentionally massaging now, stroking her hair. It's no burden for him; he loves her hair, loves the feel of it in his hands. He could do this all night if they didn't have other plans. But they do and he can't wait to make them come alive.

He stops, watches as she rinses out the shampoo while he lathers his own hair. He'll leave the conditioner to her, had once put too much in a woman's hair and never heard the end of how he made her greasy, so he stays far far away from it.

They switch spots so he can rinse. She holds up the conditioner bottle asking, "Did you want to do the honours," and he shakes his head. As much as he thinks Regina wouldn't care if he did too much or too little, and as much as he knows she'll probably shower again after the sex or in the morning because of all sweat, he'd rather not. He wants to watch her do it.

There's something sensual about the way she runs it through her hair. It's not intentionally sexy—it's just her running her hands through her hair—but it both makes him want to run his hands through it, and makes him remember all the times she's done it while they were in the throes.

They switch again so he's farthest from the spray as he pours body wash onto the loofah. He earns himself a shake of her head and a, "You know that's a concentrate right? You need like one-eighth of what you just poured."

He pays the scolding no mind, just lathers, there is quite a lot of foam. He can't smell the soap, wonders what it is, so lowers his nose and takes a whiff. It smells clean, that's really the only way he can think to describe it. It's good, not powerful at all, just a hint of an almost nutty scent. It's fresh, inviting and pleasant. He looks at the bottle for a moment, _Argan Oil Body Wash_ it reads. While he has no idea what that is, he bets it's part of what makes her skin so soft.

She's staring at him when he sets down the bottle, surprising him when she opens her mouth to tell him, "I use all natural products, I have some pretty bad chemical allergies, my skin is super sensitive, and I also want to do my part to help the environment."

"That's cool," he says and wonders how she'd take to the Head and Shoulders and Old Spice body wash in his bathroom. He suggests, "Why don't you turn around so I can wash your back?"

She giggles and does as asked. He moves the loofah slowly over her skin delighting in the way it makes her shiver. He's taking in every inch of her skin, committing to memory for when this inevitably blows up in his face and he loses her. For the first time, he notices a birthmark on her spine. It's soft, subtle, a little freckle beside the edge of her spine, a couple of inches above her ass. He's surprised he never noticed before, and wonders if there's anything else he hadn't observed.

He kneels and runs it down her legs, noticing the scar just below her knee joint. From falling off her bike as a kid, he learns. She turns so he can do her front and discovers more. There's one on the outside of her left ankle, a shaving mishap as a tween and a little circle on her right shin she has no idea what from.

Like her hair, this is more soothing than arousing, but he changes that when he hits her knees. He stands and changes direction, going top down. He lathers her arms, presses kisses to each wrist after the first one makes her gasp. He read once somewhere that the inner wrist can be a hotspot, and it appears it is for Regina, knowledge he plans to exploit from now on. He kisses up her arms, trailing the path he took with the soap.

When he washes her neck, he repeats that, washing then kissing, lingering on all of her sensitive spots until she's breathing heavily again.

She twitches with anticipation when he does her breasts, softly moaning as he dances the loofah over her nipples. He does it again and again, until she's panting and a soft _please_ falls from her lips.

He kisses down her chest, her lidded eyes watching his descent with anticipation. He draws it out, thoroughly explores the side of her breast, the underneath, the space between them, before he ascends on nipples tight with arousal.

She's stunning like this, all wet, naked, free of any makeup. He doesn't think he's ever seen a woman this naturally gorgeous before. He's been with beautiful women, sexy women and Regina is both, but she's also more. One moment he's drooling over how hot she looks, the next he's smiling over how adorable she looks, the next he's stunned by her beauty. Just like her mind, her beauty is wonderfully complex.

When he finally licks her nipples, she moans deeply and her hand moves to his head, holding him there. As much as he loves her hands in his hair normally, he pulls away immediately. She pouts and stuffers, "What are you doing?"

"Keep your hands to yourself. I'm in charge."

She swallows slowly and nods, so he returns to his task. God, he loves her tits, loves how he can rile her up with a rougher touch, a quick nip or a firm suck. He thinks for a second about nipple clamps, bets she'd love them. He makes a mental note to bring it up some time and see if she's interested in trying.

He washes her belly, takes time really washing her inner thighs, her crotch, purposefully tickles it over her clit over and over, making her all twitchy.

He bets she's soaked now, and not from the water. He's going to find out in a moment.

He kisses down her stomach, enchanted by the way her muscles clench at every pass of his lips, how she's panting with anticipation.

He slides his tongue into the crease of her thigh, and she moans loudly, gloriously. It makes him aware of his cock again, of the erection that hasn't entirely abated and that is springing back to life. Being between her thighs is so arousing; it makes him ache for her every single time.

Sure enough by the time he finishes teasing her inner thighs he's rock solid again from the way she's reacting to him, lighting up even more.

The high pitched and frantic, "Ahh," she lets out when he moves from sucking her inner lips to her thighs is fucking fantastic and erotic as hell. He slides his tongue down and inside her for a second and finds her soaked, as expected, but it still sends a thrill through him.

He teases her clit with licks too light to be anything but teasing, and her reaction is glorious.

"God, Robin, please, I—Oh, god, please I need…"

"You need what, darling?" he asks, even though he's well aware of what she needs.

"You have to let me come, god I'm dying here, fuck, please."

He pretends to ponder it for a second before responding, "Hmm, no."

She begs a bit more, each one riling him up even more. He has to drop a hand down to stroke himself for a minute after she pleads with him that she'll do anything to come and says his name followed by a, _please, please, oh god,_ in this tone she only gets when she's completely desperate and dying for it.

He's actually a little apologetic when he tells her, "I'm sorry, love, we've barely started. You can't come until nine, remember?"

Her face falls, and he takes pity on her, stops his teasing to give both her and him a bit of a breather.

They both calm as she washes him, heeding his gentle reminder not to tease him. It's rousing of course, but there's no funny business this time, she doesn't take him in her mouth like he knows she wants to. It allows him to get back firmly in control, which he needs to survive the next part of his plan.

They get out of the shower finally, and he's thankful they didn't run out of hot water during that very long shower. Her house is old but renovated, so it must have a newer hot water tank too.

He lets her towel up her hair, and watches as she brushes it out. He moves behind her, pressing soft kisses to her exposed skin.

When she's done, he tells her to go lay in her bed with her eyes closed and wait for him. He grabs his backpack from her room, dresses in the comfy sweats and t-shirt he brought for this part then enters her room.

He sneaks a peek at her, her eyes are squeezed shut, as he asked. He arranges the things he's brought— the bondage tape, scissors, a blindfold, the crop, condoms—and reaches in her nightstand for his other props, her vibrators. He stares at the lube for a second, imagines using it, taking her fabulous ass. Tonight is not the time for that—but god he hopes sometime is. He grabs it out the drawer too because it's going to be a long night and she may need it later.

It makes him realize something else he's forgotten. He makes his way downstairs to get the biggest cups he can find. He fills them with cold water from her Brita and brings them upstairs drinking a quarter of his on the trip.

He asks if she needs some now, but she says no. He can't help but laugh at the effort she's had to put in to keep her eyes closed, they keep fluttering open, and she has to squeeze them shut.

"You can open your eyes and sit up," he tells her with a laugh. He watches as she takes in the line of tools on her bed. Her eyes widen when they take in the crop, he can tell she's excited. When she's done perusing, her eyes fall on the glasses of water on her nightstand.

"Just ask any time you get thirsty, and we'll stop, so you can have some."

She nods and watches as he grabs for the blindfold. He places it on her forehead but leaves her with her sight and grabs for the tape. Her headboard has posts which is handy, so does the footboard but he's going to take advantage of that flexibility for now.

Her urges her flat on her back, her head on the pillow. "Tell me if you get uncomfortable, need to switch or need out. Don't feel bad about any of those."

She nods slowly, and he gets to work on her right hand. He gets her hands taped to the bedposts with little strings, then does her ankles. He binds them lightly to her wrists, with lots of give to ease any discomfort.

"This okay?" he asks when he's finished, taking a minute to admire the hot image of her tied and spread for him. Her legs are wide open and he has fuller access to her sex than he ever has before. God, she makes quite the picture like this. He can't stop staring at her.

He's glad when she tells him it's good because he gets to view this for longer. He lowers the blindfold over her eyes, stealing a kiss as he does.

He checks the time. It's 8:05, fifty-five minutes before she's allowed to come—plenty of time to break her so he can punish her like she wanted.

"Alright love, you have fifty-five minutes until nine. It's not a freebie at nine either; you'll still need my permission. Just remember no matter what I won't give permission before then. So, shall the games begin?"

She sighs and tells him deliberately, "Yes," so he gets to work.

* * *

She's pretty sure she's never been this turned on in her entire life. Holy god, she _needs_ to come, is fucking soaked and Robin keeps doing perfect things that have her thighs and toes clenching until she feels the beginning of an orgasm about to flood her—then he stops.

It's fucking torture. It's delicious, pleasurable torture, but still, torture. He's been teasing her with her vibrator for what feels like hours, but she knows it hasn't been. It hasn't even been an hour of this. She knows that because after the fourth time she asked if it was nine yet, Robin told her he had set an alarm, and she would hear it, so not ask anymore.

He pulls the vibrator from inside her, and presses it to her clit, and _oh god_. Pleasure surges from the contact. She's close, christ she wants it this time, tries to prevent her body from showing the signs, but just as everything tightens to release he pulls it away again.

She whines at the loss of contact, can't help it. He chuckles, the fucking jerk, as she hears him turn off the vibrations. He gets way too much out of torturing her, that's for sure.

"God, please, give me something, I need…" she begs, not really knowing where she was going with it, just knowing she needs more. She _needs_ to come, _now_.

"In time, love," Robin says, and she can hear that infuriating smirk in his damn voice.

He kisses all of her most sensitive spots, lingers on that spot on her neck, the one behind her ear, bites softly at her nipples in a way that makes her even wetter. She'd thought she couldn't get any wetter, but boy, was she wrong.

She loses it when he grabs for her vibrator again and thrusts it up inside her, angled perfectly. She cries out, "Oh, god, fuck," at the sensation. It makes her even needier, she can't take it anymore, she needs this orgasm more than she ever has in her life. She tries to remind herself it will be worth it in the end, remembers how mindblowing the orgasms are when she's waited, but it does little for her.

He pulls it out and warns, "Don't come. You still don't have permission."

She hears the vibrations kick up—shit. Her pulse kicks up even higher. This isn't fair, he isn't fair. Her clit is throbbing, so needy and the vibrations will have her over the edge in minutes, seconds probably.

He surprises her when he doesn't press it against her clit, but runs it up and down once as she moans, then sinks it inside her. It goes in easily, the toy is still soaked and so is she. He finds her g-spot quickly, this toy designed to thump against it perfectly. It's great when she uses it, but Robin gets an even better angle, and it's fucking fantastic.

She can't stop gasping—everything feels so good. This isn't enough, but if he so much as touched her clit while doing this, she'd explode. The heat is building inside her and hell, maybe she doesn't even need something on her clit, maybe this alone, given how much he's riled her up, will be enough. It's rare she comes without some kind of clitoral stimulation, but it has happened, occasionally, and Robin's done it before.

He changes the angle, so it's somehow even better and _oh fuck_. That's, god, shit, she's close, oh fuck, she's close, just from this. Each thrust of the vibe against that spot feels insanely amazing, not enough to send her over, at least not yet.

She'd probably have an opinion on the sounds she's making if she could focus on anything other than the blunt stabs of pleasure radiating out from inside her. She can't see because of the blindfold, can barely hear because her senses are focused on the intense sensations Robin's creating.

She nearly loses it when he sucks her clit. Everything clenches, her hips buck, thighs twitch. She cannot handle the onslaught of pleasure. He's still thumping that spot with the vibrator while his mouth does things that are absolutely magical. She's so fucking close and he's—fuck, he cannot expect her to last when it's like this. It's acute, in the best of ways and she can feel everything winding tighter, preparing for release.

She could spill over so easily, if she let go, it would be over in seconds, but—

He sucks firmly on her clit, and she cries out, "Oh god," then, "God, please, you need to, I can't, so f—close, please, please."

Her muscles are shaking from the effort of holding back, her nails are digging so hard into her hand she's worried she'll draw blood. But if she loosens anything, she will come, and it's not time for that yet.

But it would feel _so good_ , and she needs to release this tension or she'll combust, so she continues begging, keeping everything drawn so tight, "God, please Robin, please, please let me. God—uh— _please_."

He pulls away from her clit, and she whimpers. Her clit pulses, then starts to throb, a feeling of desperate arousal that is not at all helped by what he says, "I told you before, you aren't coming until after nine, so be a good girl and keep quiet until then."

If she was of more sound mind she'd probably sass him about the fact that she has no way of knowing what time it is, but she's too far gone to really register anything other than the fact that he'd denied her permission, and she needs to try to hang onto the meagre amount of restraint she has left.

She's getting wetter with every thrust of the toy against that spot, is drawn so tight, that every tiny movement of it sends shocks through her. She's so wet it's obscene, is dripping down onto the bed, and has been for a while.

She keeps trying to close her thighs, squeeze them together to get some pressure on her clit, but she can't. It's an inadvertent reflex, and her legs move again against her will. This time the toy is pulled from inside her and no. As much as she doesn't want to come right now—rather doesn't want to come without permission, she wants to let go so badly she could cry—she _needs_ stimulation.

She opens her mouth to protest but then her jaw drops when Robin licks at her opening, his tongue teasing delightfully, and _fuck_ , it's arousing.

She can hear the vibrator still buzzing and clenches at the thought that he will use it on her again soon.

She bucks and pants an, "Oh my god," when he presses it to her clit, his tongue dipping inside her. This is, god, this too good, she can't, he can't expect her to—fucking god it feels incredible.

She can feel herself trembling, feels the orgasm she's been fighting flare up anyway. She tries she really does, begs, "Please I c-can't—" before she's consumed by the feelings.

Her mouth is open, sputtering things loudly as her hips lurch, and her muscles _finally_ relax. She surrenders to the onslaught of intense sensation, lets it pull her under. All she can do is feel it, can't think, can't do anything except experience it. The vibrations on her clit make everything fiercer, better. She feels sheer gratification as her orgasm surges through her, hot and intense flooding her with bliss. It's long, made better by all the time she spent waiting for it.

She shrieks when it becomes too much. He pulls it away immediately, her whole body sagging against the bed in response. She's trying to calm her ragged breath when he tells her, "You came without permission."

She feels everything tighten and throb at that, anticipating what comes next. Her throat is dry from all her babbling, so she asks for water. He kisses her forehead, tells her to wait for a second while he frees her.

She steadies her racing heart as she waits, listens to him pick up the scissors at start cutting. He does her legs first, cutting the connection to her wrists so she can finally drop her legs to the bed. She stretches them out while she can. He cuts off her wrist ties too, which surprises her.

He hands her the water glass, which she downs greedily, soothing the dryness in her throat. When she's done, he takes it from her, and grabs her hand and urges her to stand up.

"What are you doing?" she asks curiously.

"I need you standing for your punishment," he responds and oh, okay. She shivers as he guides her up, her anticipation taking over. She cannot wait to feel this, she knows he won't hurt her, or at least not in a way she won't enjoy. It's a freeing feeling to trust him this deeply, to give over this much control and feel safe. She never thought those two would go together, typically giving over control would make her anxious as hell, and that this doesn't makes it even better. She doesn't think she's ever felt so free and open before, doesn't know if she's ever trusted a lover as fiercely as she does him.

He gives her exactly what she wanted, and it's perfect. He's a bit too gentle at first. It's good but she wants more, and he gives her what she asks for. Tests out different intensities until he hits that one that's too much for her and she tells him such.

To make up for it, or at least she thinks, he drops to his knees and starts kissing her thighs, licking and soothing the spots he hit. When he starts eating her out earnestly, it's such a shocking onslaught she almost comes on the spot.

He pulls away when her thighs are twitching, her arousal coiled deeply, seconds from springing out.

Then he grabs the crop again, and raps her ass, lightly at first then harder. It hurts, getting smacked with a crop does, but that bite of pain when she's so aroused just makes everything better. The contrast in sensations makes the feeling sharper, makes her feel more. It's incredible and intense but in the best of ways.

When he taps it lightly against her clit, then smacks her inner thigh hard before rubbing it against her opening, she feels herself drip onto the crop. She can tell he saw it by the way he moans softly and whispers, "God, you're wet."

She nods and moans as he teases her some more. She loses track of how many times he hits her, where he hits her, everything aside from the feeling of it. He's alternating pure pleasure touches and more intense strikes. She feels hot, needy, on edge, but not entirely desperate. She can take a bit more, she wants to take a bit more, wants to keep feeling like this, to feel the burn in the wake of blows and the hot, intense pleasure when he switches to light, teasing touches.

She's so sensitive in the wake of all the attention, her nerve endings hyper alert from it, making it so anytime he touches her she feels it everywhere.

He's flicking the crop over her nipples, a soft up and down pass, and she has her head thrown back moaning over how exquisite it is. Her hands are taped behind her back, and she's standing legs spread, still blindfolded as Robin does whatever he wants to her body. It's completely exhilarating and strangely intimate. It feels as if they are the only two people in the world and that this is the only thing that matters.

When the alarm goes off telling her it's finally nine, Robin grabs her vibrator again, turning it to one of the highest settings. He presses it to her clit firmly. It has her climbing the walls in seconds, and she's almost swept under before asking for his permission.

"God, fuck, please, May I—Ah." Making words is hard, doing anything but feeling is hard. She is so damn close, and the vibrations are powerful against her clit, driving her up even higher.

"All you have to do is ask," Robin comments, as she tries desperately to regain a bit of control and hold off the orgasm she's barrelling toward at light speed.

"God p-please, you have to—I need to—"

"Ask," he reminds and right, right. Fuck, god, she just needs her brain to work a for a second then she can have the orgasm of a lifetime.

"May I come?" and oh fuck, yes, she did it. Relief is in sight, she won't have to endure this much longer.

"You may," he says and pulls away the vibrator, leaving her right at the precipice, so close she may fall over anyway without any stimulation. "Just not like this, I want to feel you come on me."

Fuck, she wants that too. She takes deep breaths, keeps herself tensed, fighting the urge to spill over because she knows it will be so much better if she can just rein it in for a second.

Robin runs his hand over her cheek soothingly, and pulls the blindfold off of her. Her eyes take a moment to adjust after being kept in darkness for the last hour.

She's still trembly, and extremely aroused, still nice and close, but not so close she can't move. She's aching, but it's bearable for the moment it takes them to situate.

Robin grabs a condom, she watches entranced as he puts it on. He's so hard right now, and she wonders if the intensity of that last little bit was because he's dying, if he has run out of patience—she hopes so, she wants him as desperate as he makes her.

She doesn't move, waits for him to tell her how he wants her. He kisses her deeply, tongue filled and needy, she feels so connected to him in this moment. As it goes on she realizes they've barely kissed since they left the shower and she pulls him back in for another when he pulls away, needing to feel his lips on her, to feel close to him. She wants to touch him, hold him in her hands, pull him closer but she can't.

When the kiss breaks he comes behind her, grabs her restrained hands in his, commanding her, in that dominant voice she loves so much, to bend over. She steals another kiss before she does, it's a little awkward maneuvering it but they make it work. As they do he sinks into her, pressing himself in deep, to the hilt, stretching her.

His hand urges her down, and as she bends the angle gets even better. He moves slowly and it feels amazing. When he starts to go faster she feels out of control; if he lets go of her hands she will topple over. She knows he won't let that happen, but the fact that her safety is in his control makes it that much hotter. She realizes this is the position she told him about a month ago when she was trying to explain that she liked danger. It's even better than what she described to him, because she doesn't have any fear at all, it's thrilling but not the least bit scary.

His one hand is on her hip, the other holds her hands as he starts taking her faster. He's hitting her g-spot roughly, making pleasure rush out.

She's sputtering out broken encouragements as she climbs higher. She's so fucking close, and his every thrust is invigorating, but it's not quite enough. She revels in how good it feels for a few minutes, at the ache, the pleasure and the need to come, until she can't take it anymore.

She pants, "Mmm, my clit, I need… oh, fuck, mmm, rub my…"

He understands what she's getting at and the hand that was gripping hers comes around her waist. It throws her balance for a second, and her nerves skitter, but the hand on her hip tightens and they compensate.

As soon as he touches her clit she cries out, pleasure surging through her. He rubs her faster and she shouts, everything inside tightening before exploding out. Euphoria overtakes her, pouring through her veins, as she shouts and gasps, her body spasming in response. She's still hyper sensitive so she feels it _everywhere_. Robin fucks her through her orgasm, prolonging the intense feeling until it flickers out and she's left breathless and weak-kneed.

He pulls out but she can feel him hard against her ass. He isn't done yet, she realizes with a shiver. She's probably too spent for another orgasm, but if anyone can make it happen, it's Robin.

He cuts off her bindings and lets her shake out her arms. He kisses her while she does, and she revels in it. Now that she can, she runs her hands down his back, over his arms, exploring his skin. She can tell he's giving her time to recover even though he has to be dying. He's so thoughtful like that, she's never had such a considerate and giving lover before, someone who always puts her needs above his. It makes her want to blow his mind every single time. She's glad he's vocal in bed, tells her how good it feels, so she knows she's succeeding.

She gets a second wind when he lays down and tells her to sit on his face for a minute then fuck him into the ground.

He doesn't tease when she settles over him, starts up on firm sucking pulls that have her gasping. She can feel herself amping up. He's doing everything he can to get her off quickly, or get her up, so she goes off like a rocket once he's inside her. Her ass clenches and her thighs twitch as his tongue does something delicious against her midsuck that has heat flaring. There are pops of pleasure dancing inside her as he continues to build her orgasm. It only takes a couple of minutes of that before she starts to get close.

She slides off of him, reaches down and strokes the head of his cock, making his eyes roll back as she situates herself.

He lets out this hot as hell sound as she lowers herself on him, begs her, "Oh god, darling, _please fuck me_. I've been waiting for bloody ages, need you so bad."

She shivers, her inner muscles gripping him in a way that has him moaning and again urging her to fuck him hard. She looks into his eyes, sees how needy and desperate he is, and it sets her off.

She starts moving on top of him, taking him deep as he writhes and moans.

"God, fuck, love, you look—Ah, mmm—so fucking _hot_ right now. Fuck, I… Uhh."

She takes great pleasure in his incoherence. She watches as his eyes squeeze shut, fighting off his orgasm for her. She pulls him up for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on hers. Her one hand grips his strong arm tightly, her other arm wound around his neck keeping him close to her.

His hips buck underneath her and he breaks from the kiss to pant, "P-p-please, I need—come for—Mmm."

She knows what he's getting at, and she's so close, all she needs to do is touch her clit and she'll be a goner. His eyes shut as he falls back onto the bed and she can see on his face how badly he needs to come. She's addicted to the way he looks right now, how this feels, the way he sounds, and she doesn't want it to end just yet.

He lets out a broken cry, his eyes flaring open, his stomach tense and curling in on himself. "Fuck I c-aan't—"

He's fighting so hard not come, trying his best to hold off for her and it just makes her hotter, has her reaching down between them and pressing her fingers to her clit. She tremours immediately, and he urges, "God, yes, like that. Fuck, I—"

His babbling is interrupted by her loud cry as she lets go. It's immediately followed by his relieved groan and a, _Yes_. He comes seconds after her, and it amps her back up, so she's still riding out the heavenly sensations as his head falls back and his body collapses fully onto the bed.

Her hand falls from her clit when she can't take it anymore, but she thrusts on top of him three more times, drawing out little pings of heat as his softening cock hits her g-spot.

Then she slumps on top of him, totally spent, somehow finding the effort to roll off of him so he can dispose of the condom. She doesn't know how he manages to get up to do so, she's far too loose limbed, but he does. As soon as he's done, he settles down beside her, his breath heaving as he starts to settle.

"Holy fuck, that was _good_ ," he breathes. She can only give a brief acknowledgement, far too exhausted to do anything else. They kiss softly, long lingering afterglow kisses that make her feel warm and cherised. They fall asleep like that, on top of the covers, entirely spent from the mindblowing sex.

She wakes up around two in the morning freezing, and he hasn't moved an inch. She grabs a blanket from out of the closet, covers him with it and slides under the covers, letting sleep pull her under once more.

He obviously woke up at some point because when she wakes up, she's in his arms and they are both under the covers.

She can feel how sweat slicked she is, knows they both need showers and that new bedding is also a good idea. She should get up, but they don't have class until 1:30 on Tuesdays, and he looks so peaceful that she's loath to disturb him.

So for a couple of moments she lies in his embrace, watching him sleep, taking in how gorgeous he is. Then the need for the bathroom and a toothbrush becomes overwhelming, and she attempts to shuffle out without disturbing him. He wakes when she pulls out of his arms, trying to urge her back into them half-asleep.

"I'll be back," she promises and laughs when she finds him fully asleep when she gets back.

She takes a shower, and gets dressed while he sleeps away. She goes downstairs, makes coffee and some yogurt for breakfast, then comes back up and starts on some work in her office while she waits for him.

When she hears him get up and clammer to the bathroom, she goes downstairs and makes him a latte. She makes it to her room just as he emerges from her bathroom.

"Bless you," he says as he takes the mug from her, inhaling the scent before taking a huge gulp. "Oh, that hits the spot."

He gives her a quick peck which she returns. She knows he found the toothbrush she's been leaving out for him since the last time he slept over by his minty fresh breath.

She's unsurprised when the next thing out of his mouth is a request to use her shower, and she tells him he doesn't need to ask. It makes him smile in a way that makes her heart stutter. For a brief second, she imagines what it would be like to have this every day, to wake up with him, go to bed with him and spend as much time as they could together. She shakes off the thought as he re-enters the bathroom. As much as the idea is nice, she is not that kind of girl, and she knows it.

She's not meant for princessy fairytale relationships—she's not meant for relationships at all. She knows that, learned it the hard way when she broke her own heart and Daniel's in the process. At least this time she's only hurting herself. When she inevitably fucks this up the only thing Robin will be upset about is the lack of sex, and that's both comforting and not. It's comforting because she does not want to hurt him; he deserves happiness, deserves better than her. But it also hurts to think about how he doesn't feel for her the way she feels for him.

She's been trying to deny those feelings. It's sort of her specialty, pretending problems don't exist instead of facing them head on, until she can't do that anymore. It's one of her major flaws. In many things she's proactive and confronts issues immediately, but in her personal life she's a coward.

She knows exactly where it comes from, thinks of all the times she decided she was going to tell her mother how she makes her feel, then opened her mouth to say something and couldn't. She's too afraid to open that door, to push her mother about how she treats her because she doesn't want to know the answer. Would be crushed to hear her mother dismiss her feelings, which she would, or even worse, imply she wishes Regina wasn't her daughter, really any manner of hurtful things her mother would say if Regina told her how she really felt. It would be spun back on her. It would be her fault her mother is a bitch, which would feed that little part of her that thinks maybe that is the case.

She strips and redresses the bed while Robin's in the shower. She lets him circle his arms around her waist and press a kiss to the back of her head when he's out. She revels in the embrace, letting it lead her away from her unfortunate train of thought.

She'd be a mess without him, and that is scary. She used to be in control, she used to be able to function by herself. But now she keeps leaning on him, her casual fuck buddy, and she doesn't know how to stop. No that's not true—she doesn't _want_ to stop.

"I should be getting home," he mumbles into her skin. She nods but doesn't pull away, makes him break the embrace. "Gym tonight after class?"

"Yeah, that would be good."

He kisses her softly, he keeps lingering. When he pulls away her lips find his, it's another twenty minutes of gentle affection before he finally leaves.

As he does, she gets this massive urge to ask him to stay, wants to spend the whole morning cuddling and trading affection with him, but she can't, so she doesn't ask.

* * *

She's embarrassed and doesn't want to be. There's no reason to be ashamed, people get Plan B all the time, it's not a big deal. She probably doesn't even need it, but she's been playing fast and loose with birth control for a while, and she'd rather be safe than have her luck run out. She was fucking Robin Locksley for almost two months without birth control, three if you count the first time. While they were using condoms (other than that one time), it was still stupid and she should have been protected the whole time.

She got the shot on Saturday, it was within seven days of the start of her period which means it's supposed to be effective right away, but again she'd rather be safe.

She avoids the on campus drug store because she won't risk running into someone. It's bad enough she has to do this, worse if she has to see someone she knows.

Robin had offered to come with her, after they realized the condom broke, but she would much rather do this alone. She wants to attract as little attention as possible and get out quickly.

It's her own damn fault, they've been to the gym together three days in a row, and all three days, she's taken him home after. She can't keep this up, had sworn she would resist today, but then he was groaning and squatting in those shorts, and her resolve crumbled.

They both had work to do so they made it quick, had rough sex against her front door using his wallet condom. It felt amazing, was amazing, right up until Robin pulled out after and had informed her guiltily that the condom was broken. It wasn't his fault, but she was still annoyed.

So for the first time in her life, she's at the drug store to get Plan B. She cannot wait for this to be over, to be home, to take it and pretend this never happened.

Her plan is ruined when she walks in and Mal calls her. She answers, knowing that somehow what she's doing will come out.

"Hey," Mal says, after Regina greets her, "Are you free? I just got into it with my dad. I need a distraction so I don't dwell on what an utter asshole he is."

Her heart aches for Mal—she knows what that's like because of her own mother. She wishes neither of them had to go through it but she can't change it. All she can do is what Mal asked, keep her company. "Yeah, of course. I'm out right now, but I'll be home in about twenty minutes so maybe aim for half an hour from now."

"You aren't at Robin's, are you? Because if you are, forget I called and go get laid."

That was earlier she thinks to herself. "No, I'm at the drug store."

Mal asks suspiciously, "At ten, when that's normally when you crawl into bed?"

She almost tells her that she actually goes to bed at 10:30 but realizes it's not that much better so holds her tongue on that point. "Yeah."

Mal's, "Whatcha doing?" is entirely expected.

"Just have to pick something up, so I'm going to do that so we can hang out."

"Why do you sound like your hiding something?"

She lowers her voice just above a whisper, not wanting anyone to hear. "I'm getting Plan B, okay? I'm going to do that and I'll see you in a bit."

"Mmm, okay, you do that. But this isn't over."

Ugh, but she's not surprised. "Okay, bye, Mal."

"Bye," Mal says and immediately hangs up.

Alright, now time to hopefully not humiliate herself. She makes her way to the pharmacy, and there's a middle aged man talking to the pharmacist and an older lady in line. She steps behind the lady and prays no one will get in line behind her.

As the guy starts to walk away the lady urges, "Oh, you can go ahead, dear."

"Oh, no, that's okay. I'm good."

"You seem like such a nice young lady, I insist."

Regina knows she won't win this so says, "Thank you," even though she's not really happy with it. She bets she's about to change this woman's opinion of her.

She asks for Plan B as quietly as she can but she hears the gasp behind her and her cheeks flush. She ends up listening to a lecture about how sex is a sacred act between those who are married to make a baby, while the pharmacists grabs it. Lovely. She keeps her face neutral throughout the lady's tirade, even though she's internally eye rolling like crazy, hoping if she listens without judgment, she'll be allowed to walk away.

After Regina pays and has her bag, the pharmacist calls the lady up. She tells Regina that she hopes this teaches her a lesson and she finds God, before ordering her prescription.

She texts Mal while she waits for her Uber: _Omg do I have a story for you_

She recounts the gist by text which is kind of silly because Mal's meeting her in a couple of minutes, but Mal asked, so she answered.

When Mal arrives, her eyes are red-rimmed. Shit, she'd been crying. Regina tries to give her a hug but Mal waves her off, "Don't, I'll lose it. Distract me, tell me more about the crazy church lady."

She does, relays the whole story once she grabs them wine and they settle on her couch. She tries to remember each and every word the woman told her, so she can draw this out. By the end of the story, Mal is laughing heartily.

"What a character," Mal remarks, between sips. "So tell me, little one, why did you need the pill in the first place?"

She tries not to be embarrassed, this is Mal after all, Mal tells her everything, even things she'd rather not know. "The, uh, condom broke so…"

Mal narrows her eyes, "Wait, you aren't on birth control?"

She's in for it. "I just started so I wanted to be safe."

"Haven't you been fucking for months?" Mal asks and Regina avoids her gaze because yes they were, and she's well aware she's been dumb. "Oh Regina, well you got lucky, but don't do that, you need to protect yourself in every way you can."

"I know."

"Do you?" Mal asks seriously, taking her hand. "I know some people say law school is the best time to have a baby but don't listen. You aren't ready, trust me, and also pregnancy is horrible don't buy into that 'it's the best thing that ever happened to me' bullshit."

"I don't… I'm not… Can you imagine how my mother would react? It was just a period of stupidity, it won't happen again."

"Well, a period of stupidity is all you need to get pregnant, just ask fifteen year old me."

She knows that, remembers seeing Mal around, hearing the rumors she was pregnant, which were seemingly confirmed by her baggy clothes and being pulled out of school to 'go to Europe' for six months. Her father hadn't wanted anyone to know, so to spite him Mal told everyone where she'd been. Before she had Lily, Mal was popular, but being held back a year and having a teenage pregnancy had made her an outcast, and it was lucky for Regina Mal then took it upon herself to take in other outcasts like Regina.

"I know that, and that's why I went and got this stupid pill even though I probably don't need it."

Mal nods, apparently satisfied. "You know I only want the best for you."

"I know," she says, smiling back at her friend. Mal's proved that many times over. "Have you heard from Lily's parents recently?"

She shakes her head, "Not since their biannual picture update in January. I'm a little worried about it though…"

"What do you mean?"

Mal thinks for a second, clearly trying to sort out what to say. "She's getting older now and she's asked them questions about me before. But she's twelve this year and I can't help but worry this is when she'll want to know more. And it was different when I wasn't going places, but now I worry she'll think I could have kept her, that I could have provided a good life and I don't know. I just… I wouldn't know how to tell her giving her up is the only reason I am doing well. I'll probably never meet her, but it's in our agreement that if she wants to they will let her meet me. I guess as I get older, that possibility gets more real, and it's scary."

Mal sighs and Regina wraps her arm around her, tracing her hand lightly down her back in a way she hopes is comforting. "I want her to be proud of me, but not to feel like she was a burden and also not think I made the wrong choice. I guess I need to go a few more rounds in therapy about it because it's really been bothering me and I have to stop it."

Regina nods, "Talking about it in a therapy sounds like a good idea. I wish I had the answer that I could tell you it's all going to work out. I believe that it will, but I don't know that that does you much good. I know for sure that if she gets to know you she'll be proud of you. You've overcome so much and you are the strongest person I know. If you ever spend quality time together she'll see that."

Mal's eyes water and she rubs her eyes, pushing it away. "Okay, enough emotional stuff, I'm too all over the place for this kind of talk tonight."

She wonders if it might be better for Mal to talk it out. They are similar in this way, both hate crying in front of people, don't like to show weakness, and avoid conversations where they are likely to get emotional, to be vulnerable. "Are you sure you don't want to talk?"

Mal looks at her wearily, "We can go seven rounds about how shitty my dad is, but all that's going to do is bring us down, and I want to get my mood back up, so no, I'm good."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Mal downs the rest of her wine and shakes her glass, "You can get me a refill."

Okay then. She grabs the glass, looks at hers debating and ultimately deciding against it. If she has another glass given how tired she is she may fall asleep on Mal, which is not what a good friend would do.

After finishing that and another glass, coupled with several barely covered yawns from Regina, Mal makes her way home. As Regina's setting the wine glasses in the dishwasher, she spies the empty bottle on the counter and disposes of it. When she opens her fridge for a glass of water, she realizes the second bottle is nearly gone. At most, she drank half a bottle, but she thinks it may have been less than that. Mal drank more than she thought, but she was upset and they were aimlessly drinking, so it's probably not a big deal. Still, she's a bit worried as she heads up to bed. She reminds herself Mal doesn't have a problem with alcohol (or she didn't) and that she's likely overreacting. Sure, Mal's been drinking more in law school but so has she, and proportionately it's probably the same kind of increase.

She's been anxious lately, so anxious her counsellor recommended she see her doctor about meds. She did, since she had to go anyway to get birth control and she has a prescription for anti-anxieties, just needs to fill it. Perhaps that's all this is, her newest anxious fixation, making something out of nothing.

 _But what if it's not_ is the thought that keeps her up all night, tossing and turning, worrying and fretting over something that's not really in her control.

She needs to talk to Mal about it, and she resolves to do it, whether or not she actually follows through with that plan remains to be seen.


	11. March I

**TW: drug and alcohol abuse, anxiety and brief mentions of suicidal behaviour**

* * *

Robin never imagined he'd spend his Friday night like this. It was supposed to be simple, and John thought they'd be done an hour ago. But it turns out cutting Merry's nails is somehow above their skill level.

He and John had many failed attempts that ended with both of them getting their arms gouged, and only two nails actually getting trimmed. Neither of them had ever cut a cat's nails before, so they are watching Youtube tutorials, which probably is how they should have started.

At least they have beer, and it is amusing to recount how badly their initial attempts went. The videos teach them two methods they can try, but Merry is smart and has gone into hiding, so they start a movie while they wait for her to come out. John picked out some action movie Robin had never heard of it, and he's finding it a bit boring.

He ends up scrolling through his phone to occupy himself and realizes he's hungry when he pulls up UberEats and browses. There's nothing that he has to have, so he pulls up the Dominos app and asks John, "Wanna get a pizza?"

"Oh yeah, man, good idea. Lots of meat!"

"You think I don't know how you like your pizza?" he asks with an arched brow.

John teases back, "Your last five orders suggest you don't."

"I was ordering _for me_ , not my fault you decided to eat some of my pizza."

"Ugh, god, I don't know how you can eat mushrooms, they're disgusting."

He chuckles to himself, "Did it ever occur to you that I order mushrooms so you won't eat it?"

John looks at him for a moment, and his face splits into a wide grin as he taps Robin on the shoulder. "You jerk. Well, didn't work, did it?"

"No, it did not," he grouses, remembering how clever he thought he was when he came up with that.

"I will admit you may be onto something… I'll pay for this one because I have been mooching lately."

"Much appreciated," he says, then smirks, "So five large pizzas, wings, pop, cheesy bread… anything else?"

"Ha ha, very funny, what were you going to get before?"

"That."

"Bullshit," John says while waving his finger at him, "I know what you normally get. It's not that."

"Oh yeah, what do I normally get? Bet you don't know me as well as you think you do. "

John laughs, "I know you better. You usually get the free cheesy bread with a large thin crust Canadian add ham. Unless the two mediums are on sale in which case you get a super thin crust with pepperoni bacon and extra cheese and a pan crust pizza with something else, you change it up each time don't think I haven't noticed. Before you were trying to outsmart me, you'd get Meat Lovers, add bacon or that BBQ chicken one. "

He scrunches his nose, damn, John is right. "Okay fine, you know what pizza I eat, but that's just because you steal it every time I buy it."

"That's right man, I just know you better than you know me."

" _That_ is bullshit."

"Oh yeah, what do I order?"

He snickers, "Recently, whatever I do. But before that, the Meatzza, that's what they call their meat lovers or the Chicken Bacon Ranch. You bought the Philly Steak without mushrooms a couple of times but I don't think you liked it that much."

John arches a brow, "What makes you think that?"

"Well, the second time you ordered it you got extra cheese, the third no peppers or onions either with extra steak, and there wasn't a fourth time."

John laughs, "Look at us, experts in each other's pizza habits."

He laughs too, "Living together does have its perks."

"Wanna call it a draw?"

"Yeah—Oh dude, she's out." He points frantically at Merry then realizes that is probably not the best strategy, they need to get her comfortable, not freak her out.

"I'm going to grab her, get her on my lap and pet her until she's calm. Why don't you grab the clippers so she can't see them, order and when you are done we will try the head turning thing?"

"Sounds good," he says, unsure if it will work. He's wrong though, using his arm to block Merry's view so she can't see what's going on works perfectly and they manage to trim all of her claws.

They exchange a celebratory high five when they realize they pulled it off that has Merry stalking off, offended.

"Seriously man, I…" John takes a breath, "I'm really grateful for all the stuff you did. I know I haven't been the best friend to you, I've been all up in my shit, but that's over now, and I'm here for you."

He's both surprised and touched. "Thanks, man."

"You, um, haven't talked about Regina lately. You two have been spending a lot of time together though, have things changed?"

He sighs, "I… I don't think so. Well, sometimes I do, and then I think I'm being crazy. I should just tell her how I feel and accept the consequences, but I think I'd rather have this than nothing so…"

"I'm pretty sure she's into you too, you guys act like you are together, _everyone_ thinks so."

He turns to look at John, furrowing his brow, "Who's everyone?"

John's gaze screams, _really?,_ and there's a beat of silence before he answers, "Well, all the guys for starters, most of the people in our section, basically anyone who has seen you guys together."

"You really think so?" He doesn't know why he's fighting this when John is looking at him and talking to him like he's stupid, and John's point is completely obvious.

"I do, but if you want more, I can try and find out what Kathryn knows."

He looks over at John questioningly, "You two are still seeing each other?"

John shakes his head, "Nah, we hooked up again the other weekend, but that's it. Unlike you and Regina we are _actually casual,_ not this ridiculous dating without the label the two of you are doing."

He's trying not to get too hopeful from this, but he does see why people would think that, hell, he's thought it himself multiple times. He knows the way to end this confusion once and for all is to ask her, and he needs to, he will. They are going to the gym tomorrow, and are also both going to Killian's party. From one of those they'll end up going home together, then he'll ask. He'll tell her how he feels and see if maybe, just maybe, she feels the same. If not, he'll have a month or so to lick his wounds before exams start.

A traitorous part of his brain suggests he could just wait until after exams, after all, she's smart as a whip, and he could use her help studying—could also use the endorphins. No, no, he should do it sooner rather than later.

But maybe John's plan does make sense, even if it is extremely high school. "When are you seeing her again?"

"We don't really plan, the two times we hooked up were after parties, but I do know for a fact she's going to Killian's thing. I was already planning on trying to get back here, so I can ask about your sordid love life at some point in the night if you'd like."

He shouldn't but… "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind. I'd rather have the sex than nothing, and I don't want to scare her off with my feelings if that's not at all what she thinks."

John rolls his eyes, "You both are being stupid, you know that right?"

Probably so. "I like her a lot, and I don't want to lose her by pushing her. I'd rather not know if the alternative is that we stop hanging out."

"So you'd rather sit in limbo, over the small chance you get your heart broken?"

When John puts it like that, it sounds stupid. Maybe it is, but waiting a bit, being certain does sound like the best plan.

"Only until you get the scoop from Kathryn."

The doorbell rings and John shoots up, "I got it."

They devour their pizza, then John turns to him, "What are your plans for the summer?"

It's funny John should ask because they were only decided earlier that day. "My dad actually got me a volunteer position with a local lawyer. Because it's unpaid, he said they will contribute what they can toward my tuition. I guess he recently got a raise, so money is not as tight. I talked to the guy this afternoon, he seems nice, a one-man-shop, and he said he doesn't have the money to pay me any ongoing rate, but if I make him money, I'll get a cut. So yeah, I'm going home for the summer."

"Oh wow, that's cool. How'd your dad find this guy?"

Robin had thought the same thing, so he knows the answer. "He and Mom just did their wills. You know how my mom is, so she _had_ to bring up that _her son_ was in law school. Anyway, I guess they all got to talking about me, and one thing led to another."

"That's really sweet, congrats man." John holds his hand up, and Robin slaps it hard enough that it echoes through their apartment as John continues, "Damn, you'll be out of the country all summer?"

"Yeah, it makes the most sense financially, unless I have a job I'm stuck with here or there, and my one week in Kingston without school was enough to tell me I couldn't spend the summer here. It will be good to spend time with my parents. They've been acting…" He doesn't quite know how to describe it, how to put into words the feeling that something is wrong or they are hiding something from him that he gets every time they speak. He settles on, "strange. It will be nice to put that feeling to bed."

John's face twists, "What do you mean strange?"

He lets out a long breath as he thinks about how to explain it. "I don't know. It's just this feeling I have, one that I think will only go away once I see them and know they are okay. I keep thinking something's up with my mom, that they are hiding something from me, but with no basis."

"Have you told them that?"

He snorts because no, of course he hasn't. "No, my dad was being weird at one point. I called him on it, but he said his promotion is more stressful than he realized. I'm sure it's nothing, and I'm being paranoid, but it would be nice for the feeling to go away."

"That's rough. Does beer help with that?" John asks wryly, and Robin laughs a little. John's never been the best at comforting people, and as he's gotten older, he's almost stopped trying. He likes it. You hear a lot of 'things will get better,' or 'I'm sure that worry is nothing,' but those, while well-meaning, can sometimes minimize the problem or signal you should get over it. Whereas John's approach acknowledges the problem and that really he can do nothing to fix it.

"Actually it does, so why don't you get us both another?"

John bows dramatically, "Anything for you, Master."

He chucks his paper towel at him as he walks away and gets John right in the back.

"I'm not picking that up," is John's only response, and Robin laughs.

He's missed hanging out and joking around like this with John. They love to rag on each other, but it's all in good fun.

He's quite pleased with his response, "Thought you were the servant, servants pick up the garbage."

"Yeah, well, I quit, so there."

He laughs, accepting the beer from John when he re-enters the living room. That piece of paper towel sits on the floor as the rib each other, drinking beer and making fun of each other until the movie is long over.

* * *

There are only six weekends, counting this one, until exams start. She'd been scheduling out her time, trying to figure out what to tackle tonight before the party when she'd realized that, only five more weeks of classes, a week and a half of exams, then their first year is over. It's surreal.

Her first thought when she realized this had not been that she needed to make an exam plan, no, that came after realizing that in seven and a half short weeks she won't be in the same city as Robin. It's probably for the best, the forced time apart will allow her to get her feelings in check.

She doesn't know what Robin's doing for the summer, doesn't think he has a job. He'd once mentioned he'd go back and stay with his parents if he didn't end up with anything. So most likely they'll be an ocean away. Really it's perfect because it means _she_ doesn't have to do anything to stop this, can just let the passage of time over the summer make her forget how she feels about him.

Otherwise they'd probably be trapped in limbo, she doesn't know if she'd be strong enough to end it, which is really what she should have done the moment she stopped denying she had feelings for him. She knows enough about friends with benefits arrangements to know that being honest about your feelings is the only way to make them last long term. Honest about her feelings is something she hasn't been. Even worse, it's something she doesn't ever plan on being.

She's a coward, content to take the easy way out. What's new?

She never had that conversation with Mal about her drinking, though she did spend almost all of her counselling session on Thursday weighing the pros and cons of whether she should and annoyingly not getting an answer from her counsellor.

The only good thing that came out of it was her counsellor did ask about her anti-anxiety meds, which she only started taking that day because she had a feeling she'd get asked about them. They take a couple of weeks to take effect, but they should be working by exam time, which is when she will really need them. The four anxiety attacks she had last exam period are not instances she wants to repeat.

She's hoping the party tonight will soothe her fears a bit. Mal told her a while back she'd been using at parties but stopped, and a confirmation of that will go a long way toward making Regina feel better. Of course, if Mal is using she'll feel worse because she's been sitting on this and has done nothing about it, like a terrible friend. There's a pit of dread sitting in the bottom of her stomach because of that possibility. She's pretty sure she's the only one here who knows about Mal's addiction, so the only one who could have done something and she did _nothing_. Maybe that confession was a cry for help, one that she didn't answer, and now Mal is drowning as a result.

She tries to tell herself not to fixate on that, she can't change the past, but her worries don't listen to reason. The only thing that's going to make her feel better is a confirmation Mal is okay, and that might not be true. It's a hard pill to swallow thinking that she may have been enabling her for months. To Regina's knowledge, Mal was clean for over two years before she started again. Relapsing after so long, even if it was just one or two times, is something Regina should have taken more seriously.

So yeah, she doesn't exactly feel like partying. But there is another reason she's here—Robin. She'd managed to control herself Friday and this morning, resisted the urge to take him home after the gym because they were both coming to this party and could lose themselves in each other after. Once her fears have been assuaged she can enjoy him, without being distracted.

Because she was so distracted she gave up her efforts to do work, and instead made a work plan. It's far more detailed than it needed to be, and she penciled in more than enough time for work outs next week, leaving Monday and Friday off as rest days. She budgeted three hours for workouts, which is generous, but also not enough time to have sex and shower after a full work out. As much as the thought of having sex almost every day is appealing—and god, is it ever—she doesn't have time for that. She needs to keep it in her pants and go back to a more respectable once or twice a week. She can't really avoid seeing him (wouldn't want to), but she can limit the amount of time they spend naked together, which is when she feels the most open and closest to him.

She doesn't see Robin when she walks into the party, which is for the best, she doesn't need to be hanging off of him. She should spend time with other people, stop being so coupley.

Killian is already wasted when she arrives. He's sitting at the door with Jefferson who takes her money and gives her a cup. It's a fundraiser for the hockey team, and each guy has a short shift at the door, except Killian and the other guys who live there because they offered their place.

Killian throws his arm around her in a big hug, practically squishing her. He's in quite the mood—up until this point they had never hugged, but he's treating her like his best friend. She lets out a surprised sound when he takes her hand and starts leading her through the house, which is massive. There's two living rooms, at the front and back of the house, a dining room, and an industrial kitchen. The back living room leads out to a covered porch that has two ping pong tables with two rounds of beer pong going. She thinks the tour will end there, but Killian takes her outside to a huge backyard which has four kegs set up, parked in snow to keep them cold.

Because she's with Killian, she gets to go to the front of the line. He fills her cup for her, then gives himself a refill. She grimaces as she takes her first sip, she's not a big beer drinker to begin with, and this stuff is especially awful.

"Let me take you upstairs," Killian offers and she makes a face that has him reassuring, "I've got vodka in my room. It seems like you'd prefer that."

She flushes a little with embarrassment, having thought he was trying to pick her up.

"Thank you," she says, as she goes to pour out her beer.

"No, don't waste it!" Killian holds his hand out, so she passes him the cup, watching as he downs it all. Damn, no wonder he's so drunk.

He takes her back around outside to the front porch where a bunch of people are smoking. There's a second door she didn't notice before, which opens onto a staircase. The inside staircase had been blocked by a sofa and she'd briefly wondered how the guys would get upstairs if they needed to, and now that question has been answered.

It turns out there is an additional living room upstairs, this one smaller than the other two. Killian tells her she can leave her coat there if she wants, so she knows it will be safe. She does that, and follows him down the hall and to the right into his room. He opens a mini fridge, pours a generous serving of vodka into her cup and opens a can of coke.

"Wanna do shots?" he asks, and she wonders if he will be able to stay standing if they do them.

"I think you've probably had enough," she says, taking the can and pouring it in her drink before he can start drinking it.

"Nah, I'm good," he slurs. "I'll just hurl if I get too drunk, and then I can keep drinking."

That is absolutely disgusting. She feels her nose wrinkle, and Killian laughs at her poorly concealed revulsion.

"Not to worry, never puked on a girl before." He looks at her curiously for a second, his eyes flit to his dresser then back to her.

She follows his gaze and spies the bag of white powder on top, just as he asks, "You, uh, wanna get high?"

She shakes her head vehemently, she's never done cocaine and she's not about to start. She's seen the havoc it can wreak on someone's life, and she's not about to risk getting addicted. Great, this means there's coke at this party (not that she expected anything less). She really, _really_ hopes Mal doesn't come up here with Kilian.

"I'm gunna, uh, do some. You can go back down if ya want."

She doesn't have any interest in watching him do it, so she does that. When she's crossing into the upstairs living room, she runs into a guy she's seen around but doesn't know his name.

"What are you doing up here?" he asks, his tone low and hard in a way that makes her feel like a child being scolded.

"Killian gave me some vodka, I'm heading back down now."

His entire demeanour changes, "Oh, sorry, I thought you snuck up here without one of us." He extends a hand toward her, "I'm Merlin, by the way, Merlin Cameron."

She takes it, giving him a firm handshake as she says, "Regina Mills. I take it you live here."

"Yeah, the party was not my idea though. The rest of the members of the house are more… boisterous than I am."

She imagines it would be hard to live with Killian, especially if the other roommates are like him. She can't help but wonder aloud, "How'd you meet them?"

"Facebook. We were all looking for somewhere to live. One of them found this place but needed roommates."

Living with people you didn't know beforehand seems like a recipe for disaster and is not something she'd ever do, but she has means that some may not. "How has that worked out?"

Merlin chuckles, "Not ideally, but it could be worse. The house has decent soundproofing and they go out a lot. If Killian would do even one dish, things would be good."

She laughs. "He's messy I take it," because she cannot fathom Killian keeping a clean house. She'd been pleasantly surprised when his bedroom wasn't a total disaster.

Merlin nods emphatically, "Try disgusting, which kills me because he keeps his room relatively tidy,"—She shudders at the idea that _that_ is tidy—"but I guess that's for all the women he entertains."

"You're damn right it is," Killian says loudly, as he enters the room. Regina turns to see him stumble over nothing. For a moment she worries he's going down, but he staggers forward, righting himself. "Whoa, close one, eh? I see you've met the nerd of the house. Lin's in section one and doesn't ever go out so you've probably never seen him before."

"Just around the school."

"Well we," Killian starts, stepping between them and wrapping his arms around both of their necks, "are going to get this man laid tonight."

She and Merlin exchange a look that Killian is too drunk to notice.

She ends up sassing him, "I don't see how you are going to manage that up here."

Killian looks at her and at Merlin for a second. Oh no, this better not have put any ideas in his head. Why did she have to say that?

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, Regina, but Lin's gay."

She hopes Killian didn't just reveal something Merlin's not comfortable with her knowing but a look at him shows he's laughing at Killian and the idea she was into him, so she relaxes. "Oh, darn." Merlin snickers and to get back at him she suggests, "So why don't we all go downstairs so you can find someone more his type?"

Merlin shoots her a death glare but he ends up guiding Killian down the stairs. Regina follows behind, that way if he falls he won't take her out too. They make it down okay, and Killian must spy someone he wants to talk to in the yard because he rushes off. Merlin just smiles at her, happy to be freed from Killian's "help."

She makes her way into the house, stopping when she finds Kathryn, Zelena and Mal in a corner together.

"You actually made it out," Mal drawls. "Regina Mills, actually attending a social event, what gives?"

She rolls her eyes, "I said I was coming."

"Well, you missed the big news."

"What big news?"

Kathryn is the one who speaks up, "Zelena and Hades are officially together, he paid for her and everything."

She looks at her sister who's smiling proudly and is the only one not holding a cup. She gives her a hug and asks, "Where is the boyfriend?"

Zelena smirks, "He went to get me a beer."

She feels a bit out of the loop, the last time she remembers Zelena saying anything about Hades was after first term exams in December. "How long have you guys been seeing each other?"

"Okay so… we ended up making out at a party, that was at the end of January. _He said_ he wanted to date me, but I didn't believe him, I thought he was just trying to get in my pants. But then he took me out for Valentine's Day, planned a whole romantic evening. Then we were both here for reading week, so we spent a lot of time together. And yeah, yesterday we had a dinner date and he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I said yes."

She feels a tad jealous, which is ridiculous, and she pushes that down because she _is_ happy for Zelena. She's had a crush on Hades all year, even though Regina gets a bad vibe from him, she's happy they worked their shit out and are giving it a try, since it's clearly what Zelena wants.

She wants that with Robin. Fucking god, how did she get like this? This is not how she is, she has done casual many times and has never had a problem. Even with Graham, the sting of him fucking Emma Swan wasn't because she had serious feelings for him, it was more her pride than anything. She'd been stupid enough to believe he wanted to be exclusive for reasons other than it was the only way she'd fuck him without a condom. Walking in on him with her, and him not going after her, choosing instead to finish what he'd started, had been the cherry on top of her humiliation. Then when he started dating Emma she'd felt the burn of rejection, but none of that had been because she wanted to be with him.

They talk and joke as people flit in and out of their group, Hades pulling Zelena away so they can dance on the makeshift dance floor that's been set up in the back living room.

Killian finds them when it's just the three of them and announces he needs Mal to be his beer pong partner. She and Kathryn decide to watch, and boy are they glad they did because it's entertaining as hell. Killian keeps throwing insults at the other team of John and Jefferson, while Mal keeps sassing Killian for how awful he's playing.

In the end Mal and Killian narrowly win. He somehow manages to sink two in a row after missing his last four shots, which gets them the victory when Jefferson and John miss the redemption shot.

The winners get to pick their opponents and Killian chooses (which Mal agrees to, laughing) her and Kathryn. She's an absolutely terrible player and as Kathryn tries to talk their way out of it she thinks she must be too.

They are down 4-0 when Robin walks by. She makes a worse shot than her usual, which is really saying something, and she turns to find him laughing at her.

"I'm normally better than that," she insists, but he keeps snickering.

"People always say that," he says with a smirk. He's not wrong, but she still glowers at him.

It's Mal's turn and she sinks another in the last of Regina's cups. She waits for Killian to shoot, having been scolded the first time when she took her cup away too soon, not allowing him the chance to sink his ball in the same one. He narrowly misses both cups, so she grabs her cup, and fishes the ball out. She downs the last bit of the beer, deciding it has gotten marginally better as she's drank more of it, as Kathryn chases after Killian's ball.

Kathryn shoots first and manages to sink one, getting them their first cup. They celebrate their small victory and she gets in position. She wishes she was better at this, could manage to get a ball in a cup, better yet the one Kathryn did.

As she's aiming Robin comments, "You'll never make that," and she gives him a death glare over her shoulder.

He takes it in stride, comes up behind her and starts repositioning her. She's no longer focused on the game, too distracted by his hands on her hips and his hot breath on her neck. She hates how weak she is for him, that just being in his presence makes her utterly distracted.

He helps her adjust her stance, tells her where to aim. She's trying to pay attention, she really is, but she can only half listen as she inhales his familiar and arousing forest scent. He backs off, once she's in the right position, having been told if she throws with him helping, the shot doesn't count. She can focus a little more now, remembers what he said, and this time when she throws the ball she only narrowly misses.

Of course Mal sinks her ball the next shot, and she and Kathryn both miss their redemption shots.

She thinks she's done, but then Mal and Killian choose her and Robin as their next opponents. Robin is far better at the game than she is, and helps her fix her shots, so she actually makes one the new round. She's way too proud of her one cup, but it's better than she did before. When they win she knows it's all Robin, but that doesn't stop him from throwing his arms around her to celebrate their victory.

She kisses him without thinking about it, it's only when they pull apart that she realizes how dumb that was. She'll blame it on the alcohol if he asks she decides, will pretend to be more drunk than she is if need be.

He doesn't say anything about the kiss, just asks as Mal and Killian are walking away, "Did you want to play more or no?"

She finds that no, she really doesn't, so they vacate the table, allowing a new group to take it over for a flip cup which they end up joining in. When the game is over—her team won, with her somehow managing to flip her cup the first try—she looks around for Killian and Mal who are long gone.

Fuck.

She has a feeling she knows _exactly_ where they are, maybe she's wrong, but her gut is screaming that she's not. She just knows Mal left to do cocaine with him while she was otherwise distracted. She could be completely off, but it doesn't stop her from making her way as quick as she can through the house, looking for Mal.

She hadn't even realized Robin was following her, too honed in on her goal, until he grabs for her hand asking, "Are you okay?"

She doesn't know how to explain her fear, doesn't want to out Mal, but also wants someone to talk to about it. Her voice is not calm because she is _freaking out_ , but she tries to make it seem less dire than it is to her. "I'm looking for Mal. I'm… worried, worried she's doing things she shouldn't be."

"Coke?" he asks knowingly and she doesn't want to know why he knows, it had better not be from experience. She nods too afraid to verbalize a confirmation because the feeling of panic and responsibility is overwhelming her. Robin sighs, "I wondered when she went off with Killian."

"So she did?" Robin looks confused, and dammit, they don't have time for this. "Go off with him?"

"Yes, they did, and I'm fairly certain they were headed upstairs. I could be wrong though."

They are stuck in the crowd, waiting for it to move. There are so many people and she is feeling increasingly claustrophobic, increasingly like a colossal fuck up, a pathetic excuse for a friend. She'd be drowning in her emotions if she wasn't so focused on finding Mal, she needs to find Mal, _now._

Her breathing has picked up and Robin is always so aware of her, she feels his hand on her back and he's saying something soothing but she can't concentrate. Her voice shakes, betraying her when she tells him. "I just want to find her, make sure she's okay."

There's a cloying tightness in her chest, the pressure rising and rising as she tries to find Mal. It takes them a while to make it from the back of the house to the front, and she is panicking but trying to keep it in the whole time. She doesn't see Mal anywhere, stops when she finds Kathryn with John and Jefferson, but they haven't seen her so she continues on, promising to circle back, asking them to text her if they see Mal.

She's frantic when they hit the front of the house and Mal is not there. Her breathing is ragged, painful and she prays Mal is just out for a smoke. God, please let her just be out for a smoke. Just be indulging the terrible habit she and Regina share of smoking when they drink.

Her eyes scan the porch frenziedly as her stomach sinks. Killian is out smoking with a bunch of other people, but not one of them Mal.

Her stomach lurches and she wants to throw up, but she can't let this take her over.

Her hysteria is far too evident in her, "Killian, Killian, Killian," but still it takes one of the members of his group pointing out she's saying his name for him to turn.

"Oh hey, what's up?" he slurs.

God, he's a mess, she doesn't have time to deal with this bullshit right now. "Where's Mal?" Her annoyance masks the bit of panic she can't keep out of her tone.

Killian is fucking oblivious to it all. "I dunno."

She's shaking now, furious at Killian for being so goddamn stupid. She's on emotional overload and it's giving her a short fuse. It's much easier to lean into the anger than the terror that's flooding her.

"Dude," Robin interjects, "When did you see her last?"

"We went upstairs, you know, then she disappeared, haven't seen her since."

Fuck, fuck. While he hasn't said it outright, it's clear that Mal did cocaine with him. She already fucking knew it, but still, it's like a knife slashing right through her middle. Mal wouldn't sleep with Killian, well she doesn't think so anyway, and there's only one other reason to go upstairs with him. She supposes she could have went up to do shots, but doubtful. This is all _her fault_.

She's such a fucking idiot, an addict doesn't do cocaine casually, doesn't just bounce back from a slip like nothing happened. Mal confided in her, in what may have been a cry for help and she did nothing. Bile rises and tears burn in her eyes as each breath starts to catch. Her limbs feel like lead. Killian's talking but she's not paying an ounce of attention.

She's spiralling. She feels that unbearable tightness in her chest, and she wants to throw up, cry, scream, _anything_. She needs to find Mal, needs to know that she's okay, she has to be okay.

Robin's hand is on her arm and he's saying something so she focuses in, hears, "...tried calling her?"

No, she hasn't done that, that's a good idea. Fuck, she should have done that already. Why didn't she think of that? She's an idiot, stupid, stupid, stupid.

Her hand is shaking as she tries to dial. Shit, shit. She _needs_ to get it together. How the fuck is she supposed to do anything when she's this much of a mess? She manages to select Mal from her call history through the blur in her eyes. When it starts to ring she holds it up to her ear and paces. It rings and rings and she grows more anxious with each one, feeling more unsteady and alarmed. When she gets voicemail those tears threaten to fall but she hangs up and manages to call back immediately. She hopes Mal was in the bathroom or somewhere she couldn't hear it. She's shaking now, her head aching from trying to keep it all in, her stomach seconds from revolting. But when her second and third call go unanswered she's forced to face the reality that, for whatever reason, Mal isn't answering her.

She could have no service, her phone could be dead, but it also could be something much worse. Her chest is so tight it hurts to breathe, and she's so freaked out. She's away from everyone and though she knows no one is looking at her, she feels on display, feels like everyone knows how much of a mess she is right now, and how close she is to falling apart. She cannot do that, will not let the tears fall. She's stronger than that, she needs to be so she can find Mal and help her friend.

Of course being aware people could see her just makes everything worse, just makes her even closer to falling apart.

Dammit, dammit. She needs to leave, but what if Mal's here, what if—

Robin grabs her arm and pulls her into his chest. She doesn't mean to slide into his embrace but he's here and she needs comfort. She lets a ragged breath out into his shirt. His hands rub up and down her back, she focuses on it, tries to drown out all the thoughts that are telling her what a shitty friend she is, and imagining various scenarios where Mal is hurt or worse, overdosed, lying somewhere helpless, dying.

"Let's go upstairs," he whispers into her hair, and she should be looking for Mal, should be doing anything other than falling apart, but god, she's so scared.

She texts Kathryn, asks if she can please do a lap around the house looking for Mal. She gets a nearly immediate response telling her that Kathryn, Zelena and Hades will ask around. Mal tends to randomly leave parties without saying goodbye to anyone, and Regina can't judge because she has done the same, but in times like this it sucks. Mal is probably just at home asleep, but she can't know for sure and it's killing her.

With that taken care of she lets him lead her up the stairs as she fights with the tears. She keeps picturing Mal alone, vulnerable and crying, wondering why her friends didn't help her. Mal is probably fine, but what if she's not? Regina vividly remembers all the times Mal called her crying, while high, talking about wanting to die, why life was not worth living. Cocaine exacerbates Mal's depression, and Mal has been feeling down lately.

She's supposed to be calming down but Regina thinks of other times, worse times, like when she flushed all the Advil down the toilet because she was afraid Mal would take enough to hurt herself if Regina managed to fall asleep. There was also that god awful time Mal scared her so much on the phone that she called 911, and Mal was put on an involuntary hold at the hospital. After that incident Mal felt so betrayed that she didn't speak to Regina for over a month. It wasn't until she went to rehab that their friendship was repaired. The last time Mal was using she lost some friends forever, her actions creating damage beyond repair. She hurled horrible insults at Regina one night for not intervening with a mutual friend who was done with her, her words cutting Regina so deeply she burst into tears. She let it go after, knew it wasn't her friend poking at all her tender spots, it was the addiction, but that didn't stop it from hurting like hell. Right now she'd prefer that, to get sliced a bit from some harsh words if it meant she'd know Mal was okay. She shouldn't be thinking about the what if's but she is; she can't stop her brain from concocting the worst scenarios her friend could be in.

She can't breathe and she is so scared. She doesn't even notice they've made it upstairs until Robin pulls her into his arms on the couch. She can't help it then, she sobs, too caught up in feeling far too much to hold it in. She buries her face in his armpit so he doesn't see her. She takes a small comfort in the fact that if anyone sees her they will assume it's another drunk crying girl, which is still embarrassing, but not quite as humiliating.

She cries gut wrenching sobs until it suddenly becomes easier to breathe. She sniffles, in desperate need of a Kleenex because of how gross she is. She's covered Robin's shirt with her tears and she should be embarrassed but she really can't bring herself to care. She has that numbness that follows when she breaks down like this. One she knows never lasts. While she feels like this she should clean herself up. Of course, it's a guy's house so there's nothing around; she can feel Robin looking before he pulls away from her.

She takes that moment to try and centre herself. Her brain is less busy when he returns a moment later with a roll of toilet paper. She attempts to smile as she takes it from him. He's a bit blurry because of the tears but he looks sad, or maybe not sad, helpless, and she feels a twinge of guilt that she's taken him away from the party.

He should be having a good time, not stuck with her as she loses it. This is mortifying, and if she wasn't feeling how she is it would make her want to cry again, but she's all cried out, thank god.

She wipes her eyes and blows her nose, attempting to make herself look halfway decent, even though she can feel how red her face is. "You don't need to… I'll be okay, you should enjoy the party."

"I'm good here," he says sitting back down beside her.

She doesn't want that, shouldn't be just sitting here watching the time pass. Mal hasn't called her back, she looks at her phone and Kathryn texted to say no one knows where she is, and that she's fairly certain Mal went home because they searched the house and outside without finding her, and her coat is gone from where she hid it. Regina doesn't know what to do. It's not as if she can interrogate every person at this party until she finds someone who's seen Mal. And even if someone saw her "go home" it doesn't mean Mal went or made it there.

She wishes it hadn't come to this, but it has and now all she wants is for her friend to be okay, which seems to be the one thing she's incapable of finding out.

She picks up her phone with shaking hands and calls Mal yet again. She leaves a voicemail begging her to call, now that she's less hysterical. She texts her too, a, _Please message me when you get this. I'm worried, just let me know you are okay_

She had hoped that would help but Mal still doesn't answer. She's not sure what would be worse, that Mal isn't answering or she can't. All she knows is, she can't be at the party anymore, she's too anxious and wound up to be around people right now. The post panic numbness is starting to subside and her chest is winding tight again.

Robin offers to go back down and ask about Mal, and she agrees it's a good idea. She doesn't know how long she sits on that couch staring at her phone, willing it to buzz or ring, but it doesn't. She calls a couple more times, but Mal's phone goes straight to voicemail. She's much more dejected by the time Robin comes back.

"She's not here," he tells her, "Merlin saw her get in a cab earlier, so she probably went home and passed out. Why don't we get you home?"

She sighs, if only that wasn't cause for concern. Her head is starting to throb, and since Mal is not here there's no reason to stay, so she lets him lead her out. She has sunglasses in her purse she throws on, even though it's the dead of night, because she doesn't want to show anyone how awful she looks from her little breakdown.

She frets as they walk to her place, and Robin stops about halfway, asking her if they should get a cab and go to Mal's place to settle her mind once and for all.

She wishes they could do that, wishes it would be that easy, but there are two problems with that plan. First, you need a key to get in the door of Mal's building (or to be buzzed in but with Mal's phone going straight to voicemail that won't work.) Even if they managed to get in, Mal sleeps like the dead. If she's asleep no amount of pounding is going to wake her up. She almost thinks they should try it anyway, and maybe they would if it weren't almost two in the morning. She'll be going over there in the morning for sure if she hasn't heard from Mal by then, at a time when she's less likely to cause a disturbance.

Robin tries to drop her off at her door but she's weak and stupid, so she asks him, more like begs him, to spend the night with her. She can't bear to be alone when she feels like this. She's exhausted, worn out from all the adrenaline that has since left her, but she knows she won't be able to sleep. The only time she's had a good night's sleep after an anxiety attack is the last time, when he slept over. It's not his place to comfort her, but he does. She curls her body into his as they lay in her bed, trying to use the gentle rhythm of his breathing to soothe her to sleep. The sooner she sleeps the sooner she can go over to Mal's and confirm she's okay.

* * *

He wakes up to an arm jutting across him, hitting his face. Regina's apologizing breathlessly, still reaching for something. It's only when he hears a vibration he realizes she's going for her phone.

It all comes flying back to him. He hopes that's Mal, wonders what time it is, so he flips his Fitbit. It's 9:30, so he slept longer than he thought, but he still feels disoriented and like he could sleep for hours. They left the party earlyish (for a party at Killian's), but they'd both been wound up and worried so it had been sometime after four when he finally drifted off to sleep.

His mouth is like sandpaper, even without the drool spot on the pillow he can tell he slept with his mouth open, how lovely.

He wants to ask if that was Mal, but Regina's furiously texting, and if it wasn't he doesn't want to set her off. There's something more going on here, that he knows, this is not a simple loss of a drunk friend, Regina's reaction told him that. He doesn't know if it's something she wants to share, but he needs to at least know that they are both okay if he's to go about his day like normal.

He's very concerned, but he tried not to show it yesterday, tried to be there for her. Regina doesn't break down like that for no reason, she's the strongest person he knows. Something was seriously wrong. He knew he wouldn't be able to make it okay, Mal was needed for that, but he did every little thing he could think of to make it just a little bit better.

It hurt him to see Regina so upset, to know she was in such pain that he couldn't fix. He was trying not to crowd her, but man was he ever glad when she asked him to spend the night, then cuddled herself into his body, getting as close as she could. They'd stayed snuggled quietly for a while. He meant to stay awake for her, be whatever she needed, but she'd pressed herself into him, trying to sleep, and he'd relaxed himself to make that easier and ended up nodding off.

When Regina's finally done typing out whatever she was saying, she sets her phone beside her on the bed, on the opposite side of where he's lying.

He doesn't want to ask, but the silence drags, so he does. "Was that Mal?"

"Yeah," she says and he thinks _thank god_ , as her phone buzzes again.

He waits for her to finish texting, stretching himself out and moving so he sitting up against her headboard. When she's done, he asks, "What happened last night?"

Regina sighs and moves so she too is sitting up in bed. He unconsciously wraps his arm around her, only realizing he's done it when she presses into him in response.

Her voice is quiet and soft when she says, "She went home and fell asleep…"

He longs to ask her why she's hesitating, about all of the things she's not saying, but he waits her out. He knows this is really none of his business, so he shouldn't be prying. If she wants to tell him, he will listen eagerly, but he's not about to force it out of her.

He attempts to swallow and coughs a little because his throat is dry, so he takes his arm back as he offers, "I need water, can I grab you some too?"

"No, um, but if we're going to talk, coffee and relocation downstairs might be good."

He presses a kiss to the top of her head as he agrees with that plan. He stops at her bathroom first. Robin brushes his teeth and downs some water from the cup in there before going back into her room. They switch and he puts back on the jeans and shirt he stripped off before going to bed with her.

He sleeps over enough he really should keep pajamas here—he always ends up sleeping naked or in just his boxers—but now is not the time to bring that up, so he lets the thought go.

He makes his way downstairs, he wants to make coffee, but he has no idea how to operate her espresso machine and doesn't want to break it. He sits down at the table instead and thinks another time he'll ask her how to use it so he can bring her coffee if he ever wakes up before her.

She doesn't say anything when she comes down, just pours two glasses of water, setting them down in front of him and starts on a drink with enough milk he knows it must be for him. They are so comfortable with each other, know so much about each other. Yes, all she is doing is making him a coffee, but she doesn't ask what he wants, she just knows.

There has to be more to this than just sex, there has to be. John was right, he's been blind. But he won't burden her with that talk now either. He will wait until things with Mal are settled, will do whatever he can to help her through that, and then they can deal with what they are.

He feels oddly hopeful and optimistic, stuff with them is going to work out, it has to.

It's only after she's passed him his mug that she speaks, "The living room would be more comfortable."

He sees the comment for what it's meant to be, a request he move, so he does. He grabs all three cups, a practiced maneuver from his years of serving that has her eyeing him questioningly when she turns back.

"I served for years," he offers as an explanation, before making his way through the archway into her living room. He sets the drinks down onto the coffee table, grabbing a coaster for each. He's always thought that Regina had an excessive amount, but now as the two of them take up four of them, the eight she keeps out seems reasonable.

He sits on the couch when it's all situated, and Regina plops down beside him, mug in her hand. They've grown so close these past few months. It's only been two since they came back to school and really started getting closer, but it feels much longer. He wonders what would have happened if he'd pressed her in January, told her he didn't want to be casual, that he wanted her. He finds, surprisingly, he's happy with how things have turned out even with the uncertainty that's plagued him. He's not sure she would have been so open, let him get so close if they had been something more. He thinks she might have kept more to herself, been more closed off and he wouldn't trade being her confidant for anything.

She takes a few sips of whatever she made herself before she sighs and starts talking, looking everywhere but at him, "I don't… I shouldn't," she sighs again, setting her mug down onto the coaster he put out for her, finally actually looking at him. "This isn't mine to tell."

He nods, "I understand that, I'm not asking you—"

Her lips purse. "I know you aren't, but I also don't have anyone to talk to, and _that_ is driving me crazy."

"Darling, if you want to talk about I'm here."

She looks terribly conflicted, and he can't help but bring his hand over hers to squeeze gently. "I just… I don't know what to do!"

He feels a pang of sympathy, wishes he could take away whatever is bothering her, or at least make her feel a little better about it. "If you want to talk about it, it stays between us, but if you don't, that's okay too. We can sit and watch a movie or whatever you need to get your mind off it."

He hopes that's enough, she has to know that already, but it never hurts to remind, right?

Her face is pinched when she asks, "Are you sure? Please don't feel like you have to listen."

He's not sure where he ever gave her the impression he wouldn't want to listen. He decides to be fully honest, ignoring that it feels a bit pushy, hoping it's the right move. "I _want_ to know, but I don't want to push you into anything, so I keep trying to give you outs. This isn't a burden for me, I want to be here for you."

The teensiest of smiles crosses her face, only for a second. "I need you to promise you won't say anything."

He's a little put out that she thinks he would—hopes it's the circumstance and that normally she wouldn't even think to ask that—but he has no issues swearing, "I won't tell a soul."

She lets out a long breath, seems to steel herself to speak, but then picks up her cup again, sipping. He mimics the gesture, delighting in the taste of the latte she made just for him. He fights back a smile over what the latte means to him because this isn't the time.

"Okay, well, I guess I should start at the beginning." She slouches back into the couch, and he leans into her. Her head rests on his shoulder as she continues, "Mal's an addict. I don't think anyone else here knows, just me. That's why…" she huffs, "I shouldn't be telling you this, it should be hers to share. But, she's been using."

She stops for a second, taking a breath before continuing, "I've known her through all of it. She's the strongest person I know, she's been through so much… she was doing so well before law school. She has a history, but I'm not going to get into it. All that matters is she told me, a little while ago that…" Her voice catches and Robin has that urge to soothe again, settles for trailing his hand up and down the parts of her back that aren't pressed into the back of the couch.

"My best friend, the _cocaine addict,_ told me she was using again, in law school. She said it was casual, that I didn't need to worry. Sure, she said casual, but she's an addict and I brushed it aside." She looks down as she continues, "I shouldn't have done that. But I did because I was afraid. I should have pressed her about using when she told me because no, she can't use casually, and we both know it. But I didn't want to… and now she's… I'm just, I can't, I keep kicking myself for what I didn't do then, which is stupid, but I—"

"Hey," he says gently, needing to dispel this idea that she's stupid because she made one tiny mistake. "It's okay, you don't know that she's—"

Regina looks at him then, eyes flaring, "Oh, yes, I do. I told her I knew in one of my many texts last night and she didn't deny it. She's just still pulling this 'it's casual and only when I drink' crap that we both know is a lie."

She sets her elbow onto the armrest and sinks her head into her hand. "The worst thing is I'm all prepared to talk to her about it, but the truth is, I'll probably get scared and want to back out. There have been so many opportunities for me to ask her about it and I didn't because I didn't want to know the answer. You see, if I don't know then I can pretend she's still okay. Lovely how the denial works, huh? Once I know, everything changes. I've been enabling her addiction, by avoiding this, by not voicing my thoughts, that's not what a good friend does. She's an incredible friend, she might swing a little too far into calling me on my bullshit sometimes, but she always gives me what I need hear, not just what I want to. I _need_ to do the same for her. You know what, it's not just the cocaine, her drinking scares me too, but I'm always too chicken shit to say something. I'll give her a look and her expression will challenge me to say it, and I want to but _I can't_. There's something wrong with me. I want to be a fucking lawyer, yet I'm conflict avoidant in my real life, how the fuck does that work?"

She's ranting and he thinks she needs it, so he makes little sounds of acknowledgement, but doesn't interrupt. He's still feeling rather helpless, but listening is something he can do, and he will do it until she can't talk anymore if that's what it takes.

"It's ridiculous and I know it. I should have been better. I knew about Mal, nobody else, I have a responsibility because of that, and I messed up. Now time has passed, all the while she's been using, and it that much harder for her to get clean. My cowardice strikes again, hurting someone I love because I couldn't get the damn words out."

She starts to choke up, he can see the shine her eyes from unshed tears, but she soldiers on. "I don't want to be like this. I don't want to keep failing my friends. God, this is her second relapse and after the last time, I swore I'd do better and now I've done worse. Anything that happens, it's my fault."

It's the second time she's expressed that and he can't let it go. "You aren't responsible for her addiction."

Her shoulders sag. "I know that, but I am responsible for not acting when she told me before."

"Responsible for what?"

She shakes her head, glaring at him. "Anything, everything, don't you get it? Things would be different if I did something earlier to help her."

He doesn't think she's right, but even still, "Things _could_ be different, but they also could be the same and regardless, you can't change the past."

"Don't you think _I know that_? It doesn't stop me from obsessing over it, from imagining how much better things could be for her if I had done it, and also how much worse things could have gotten. I've been lucky nothing has happened to her, but that luck is going to run out at some point."

This is far beyond his knowledge, he wants to make it all better for her, wishes he had the answers, wishes he could say something, anything to help clear her troubled mind. "Well, what do we do?"

She scoffs, " _We_ do nothing. I go talk to Mal and try to help her get clean again. Mal needs a Mal right now, not conflict avoidance. I'm going to channel my inner her and hope to god that's enough."

"That's too much for one person. I may not know much, but I do know _you_ can't make this happen for her, she has to want it."

"You don't think I know that? Dammit Robin, you haven't been here before, _I have_. It sucks and it's scary and so much more so for her. We can't understand what she's going through but it's rough. She's strong, she can do it, I know she can, but it's going to be hard and she's going to need support."

This probably out of Regina's depth, stuff a professional should handle, but she's taking it on and he's not going to sit out. "What can I do?"

"Honestly, I don't know. You two aren't all that close so there's nothing really you can do, just be a friend if she wants it. I need to talk to her, I told her that, but this isn't a phone conversation; I'm going to go over there. It's just… I'm angry, not at her, maybe a little at her, but it's misguided because it's not her fault, and I can't… that doesn't help her. That needs to go away… I can't be going over there like that. I need to be supportive, strong, whatever she needs."

"Tell me," he urges, feeling a surge of hope, he can actually be useful here.

"What?"

"All that anger, or whatever you are feeling. Let it out, tell me, give it to me. Let me have it." She thinks it's ridiculous, he can tell by the look on her face. "You need to let it out, let me do this, _please_."

It takes a couple more cajolings but in the end she acquiesces. He feels both better and worse when he eventually leaves after a long post-venting cuddle that turned into a nap.

Regina swears she feels better about it all after talking to him, but he knows her mind isn't settled, his certainly isn't. She made plans to see Mal at four, which is the only reason he was allowed to stay for so long. They ended up watching a bit of _Friends_ after he made them breakfast, but neither of them were paying attention and it shut off at some point, that 'Are you still watching?' Netflix prompt filling the screen when he'd woken up from their nap.

Regina had woken up about ten minutes later. It was shortly after he decided he should leave. She had almost two hours until she was to meet Mal, but she wanted to shower and get ready, a process he knows takes more time than he'll ever understand the reason for. She'd thanked him for everything and he'd assured her it was unnecessary. He left out that he loves spending time with her regardless of the circumstances.

He wants to know what happens with Mal during that conversation but doesn't know how to ask, isn't sure it's his place.

John's asleep when he gets in, either napping or still asleep, he's not sure which. It's 2:15, so it really is a toss up. Merry greets him happily, rubbing up against him and meowing in a way he finds oddly soothing. He scoops her up, hugging her in his arms as he makes his way to his bedroom. He's still fairly tired, the emotional night and morning having drained him, so he settles in his bed, Merry on his chest, purring contentedly.

He hears back from Regina that night, just before falling asleep. She explains that her phone had died, answers a query he had about their gym schedule. She thanks him for checking up on her, but doesn't mention how the conversation with Mal went. He has so many questions, but she's tired and tells him she's going to bed. As sleep pulls him under, his mind races, wondering things like if Mal will be in class tomorrow or if Regina told her about him knowing her secret. All questions he can't get the answers to at that moment but still flood his mind regardless.

* * *

 **Thanks for sticking with this story, and for all the feedback, it's very motivating. I had thought I would finish this one by now, but it's taking longer to write than I anticipated. If you ever have any questions about the story or when it will be updated you can reach out on Twitter ( BabyLawyerOQ) or on Curious Cat (babylawyer).**


	12. March II

It was an eventful weekend, that's for sure. For the first time ever, she seriously debates skipping class. She casually considers it from time to time, but it's always a passing thought that leaves as soon as she gets up. She doesn't like to get out of bed, but once she does, she's good to go for the day. But today, she got up, made her coffee, then slouched in the chair, mind reeling, replaying the night before, wondering if she did the right thing, wondering if Mal's okay.

She texts her friend, asking how she's doing, but she doesn't expect a response; it's ten in the morning, and class isn't until one-thirty, there's no way she's up yet.

She's antsy, anxious and thankful she has therapy tomorrow morning. Her counsellor had been a bit useless to her last time, refusing to tell her what to do, but Tamara has always been good at giving an opinion on what she's already done, so she expects this session will be far more fruitful.

She'd been so scared approaching Mal. The more she had read on the internet the more she hated herself for how she reacted in February. She'd had to stop researching after the twentieth time she read about how getting someone back into treatment as quickly as possible is crucial. She's prepared herself for lashing out, or for blaming her for not helping earlier, but neither had occurred.

She was rather shocked by how well Mal took it, and she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop but it never did. That's perhaps why she feels so anxious today even though it went so well.

She'd told Mal how concerned she was that she was using, and Mal had agreed. She'd told Regina she was right and that she needed to stop, about how she'd been avoiding her sponsor, Milah, because she knew she was in trouble but wasn't ready to deal with it yet. Mal had also been telling half-truths in therapy, but was pretty sure Dr. Hyde knew something was up, and it was just a matter of time before he confronted her about it.

Mal had told her, "I really thought I could handle it this time, I was so stupid. Before I knew it I always had it on me. I know you were concerned about the drinking, but it's not… that's fine. I told myself that it was fine if I only did it when I drank, but then I started drinking more so I could use, and yeah," Mal sighed, and Regina rubbed her back soothingly. "I could quit drinking tomorrow, that's not the issue, it's the coke, I know. I keep trying to call my sponsor, but then I lose my nerve. It's silly, I know she won't be disappointed, or she will but she'll never show it, not to my face. It's easier here, because I'm disconnected, we always met face to face but now we only talk on the phone. She told me that would be a challenge, and I brushed it off, but I was wrong."

"Do you want to call her now?" she asked, hoping that Mal would say yes.

Instead, Mal shook her head, "No, I don't want to bother her on the weekend."

"I think she would want to be bothered."

Mal eyed her for a moment, before sighing again. "Why do you always have to be right?"

She laughed, " _You_ of all people know that's not the case."

Mal laughed half-heartedly, then confessed, "I'm not ready yet."

"I don't want to push you too hard, but I don't want to leave here without you talking to her."

Mal closed her eyes, taking a long, slow breath, then opening eyes welled with tears. "You're… thank you, Regina. I will… I just need to build my courage first."

And she'd helped her do that, they'd talked through it all, Mal told her about how it started. How she'd been really drunk and half falling asleep, the thought of getting herself home overwhelming when Killian had asked if anyone wanted a pick me up. How she'd known without seeing the bag exactly what he meant, and it had seemed like the ideal solution, a way to wake up so she could get herself home. Except then she'd stayed out with the boys until well after the club shut down and woke up craving it. She'd resisted for the school week so she thought she was okay, but then she got invited by the boys to watch the game, and she wasn't really interested in it, but she did, wanting to see Killian, wanting to get high. She'd excused her buying it off of him as not wanting to be a mooch, that was when she started her only when she drinks rule. That was all at the beginning of January, and she's been using fairly regularly ever since.

"There were a couple of times I vowed I would never do it again, that I was going to talk to Milah in the morning. I'd use the 'it was too late to call' excuse, but really it was just a way to keep doing what I was doing. It's good that you called me on that, I needed it."

"I wish I'd done something sooner."

Mal gave her this look that screamed 'please'. "It wouldn't have mattered; I wasn't ready then. I'm not even sure I'm ready now, but I want to be and that _can_ be enough, for now."

Then Mal's face cracked as she'd never seen it before, "I'm scared to call her, can you do it?"

She took the phone and found Milah Sponsor, she knows that's not actually her last name, but Mal had put her in that way years ago and never changed it. She dialled it on speaker, holding out the phone to Mal who only grabbed it when a, "Hello, Mal, are you okay?" came through the speaker.

She choked out a, "Yeah," then broke as Regina tried what she could to comfort her friend, to support her as she started telling her story again. True to Mal's word, Milah never expressed disappointment with her, and when she'd learned Regina was there, she asked to be put on speaker, and together the three of them talked it out.

Mal swore she didn't need rehab, that it wasn't bad enough to need to detox, and she could do it while still in school with supports, so the plan didn't include it, but it did include meetings nearly every evening for the first week—only off on Wednesday because she had an electronic appointment with Dr. Hyde, where she was going to come clean to him—and an urging to seek out a local sponsor as well. Then they'd flushed the drugs. Mal had complained at first, saying she could sell them back to Killian and get her money back but it had only taken a clearly faked cough from Milah for Mal to stop it.

Milah made Regina feel a lot better at the time, but now it just seems like it was all too easy. She's dying to know how Mal is feeling about it all now, come morning, if things have changed for her. She wonders if it would be too much to bring her breakfast. She made a quiche on the weekend that she'll have to freeze if she doesn't finish soon. She has a key to Mal's now, it was a part of the deal. No more worrying about getting buzzed in or banging frantically on doors for her. She shouldn't need to, but now she can check in on her friend if she disappears. She won't abuse the privilege, will knock and not let herself in if she does bring breakfast.

She sends Mal another text, asking if it would be okay if she brought over breakfast and is shocked when she receives a response. Not shocked that it's a yes, but shocked Mal is already awake. Not knowing whether that's good or bad, she packs up the quiche and orders an Uber, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for Jay in a black Mazda3.

* * *

He should be doing homework, should be doing the readings he's far behind on, or practicing his oral arguments for the Moot with John. It's a pass fail assignment, and so many of his classmates are so into it, but he's not. He doesn't see the point in wasting hours and hours practicing his submissions and having random questions thrown at him. He knows why some people are so into it, they want to pass with distinction or whatever its called, so they have a better chance of getting into a competitive Moot next year. He'd rather do clinic, work on real cases, instead of spending a semester focusing on a fake fact pattern.

He loves that he's a part of Queen's Legal Aid, but he thought he'd do… more. The first year students aren't trusted with much, so he mostly observes, takes notes, and does research. He was supposed to lead in an intake last week, with the third year observing, but the client had no showed, which apparently isn't that uncommon. He's learning, and he knows part of why it's not that much is because he's a volunteer, not a student there for credit. He doesn't mind not having that much to do, the opposite would be far worse, and even his limited experience at the clinic makes him realize how different the practice of law is than what you see on TV, and what he experienced with his brief encounter with the law.

He has clinic tomorrow morning, and he's finished everything but an opinion letter he's been putting off. If he can rally and finish that, then maybe he can get in on something more interesting, or he can do some more of his readings.

He has things he should be doing right now, that he shouldn't be putting off until tomorrow. Instead, he's sitting on the couch, waving the laser pointer around for Merry, to avoid working. It was an exhausting weekend, and he feels like he needs a break. If John were here then maybe they'd go over their submissions, but he disappeared after class and hasn't come home yet.

It's weird for him not to be here, he never studies at the library, and usually if he's out somewhere Robin gets an invite. He could be with a woman, Robin supposes, disappeared off to a post-class hookup. He wouldn't mind one of those himself, since he's taking the night off anyway, but with everything that's going on he doesn't bother to text Regina. He saw her before class, had a quick chat with her then, and again on the break about how she was doing. She seemed good, a little nervy, but who wouldn't be after everything? She also seemed tired, which is why he's not going to bug her with a request to get laid to cure his boredom.

Because he's weak and avoiding work, he texts her, a simple: _How are you doing?_

Her response is quick: _Didn't you already ask me that today? lol I'm good, currently debating how early is too early to go to bed_

 _It's 6 pm_

Her response has him chuckling: _Yes thanks tips, I am aware_

He asks hopefully, _Looking to kill some time?_

 _No, I have readings to do, thanks for looking out for me though_

Well damn, it was worth a try. He texts back, _Don't fall asleep_

 _Lol I won't_

He could respond, try to keep the conversation going, but she's going to try to work, and he shouldn't distract her. He sets down his phone and goes back to playing with Merry. He waves the laser around until his phone vibrates, and he reaches for it. He hopes it's Regina, that she's decided not to work and wants to kill some time with him, but it's not; it's John wanting to know if he's eaten. He ate a hot dog out of the package earlier because he didn't want to bother making something, so he could eat and tells John as much. It's his lucky day because John says he'll bring a BBQ chicken home.

He forgets to ask where John was, but he arrives home fifteen minutes later with the chicken, mac and cheese, and a small bag of groceries he takes off John's hands and puts it in the fridge. When he comes back out with plates and cutlery, he finds John has set up their dinner on the table, which makes him laugh because he's not sure they've ever eaten at the table before.

John's whistling as he cuts the chicken, and when he finally looks at Robin, he says, "What?" as if he's not strangely happy.

He raises an eyebrow and asks, "What has you in such a good mood?"

John laughs as he passes Robin what is apparently his plate. "What makes you think I am?"

"The whistling, all this," he gestures around at dinner, "I'm guessing someone got some after class; if not, I want some of whatever you're smoking."

John snickers, spearing some of the chicken on his plate with his fork and shoving it into his mouth. Between bites, John tells him, "Kathryn ordered some shelves, but didn't realize she needed a drill to install them, so she asked for my h—"

"You don't own a drill." He knows that's true—there's no way he's been hiding one in their apartment.

"I borrowed Jefferson's… anyway, so I went over and installed them for her…"

"How noble of you."

John frowns, "Shut up. So naturally, she rewarded me for my services and _holy shit, man_. That girl is fucking fantastic with her mouth, and the things she lets me do… fuck."

He rolls his eyes, before remarking, "Happy for you, man, but maybe spare the details while we eat, I'd rather not have images of you…"

"So she does this thing where—"

Robin puts his hands over his ears and dramatically yells, "La la la la la, I'm not listening."

He uncovers slightly to hear John laughing at him and figures it's safe. John keeps it to tamer topics as they eat, occasionally throwing in innuendos that earn him a glare. John does eventually get in one detail Robin would soon rather forget, which seems to satisfy him so he finally stops.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," John remarks, and Robin's wary, this better not be another explicit detail about John's sex life. "I asked Kathryn about Regina for you. She doesn't know, says she's pretty closed-lipped when it comes to you."

He'd totally forgotten about that with everything that had happened after, it seems so silly now, so childish, having John ask Kathryn about Regina. "That's okay. It was dumb anyway, you were right. There's something there, I can tell. I don't know if she's unaware, doesn't want to admit it, or was lost like I was. When everything settles down, I'm going to talk to her."

"Oh god, you're in love with her, aren't you?"

He wouldn't go that far, he cares about her deeply, wants to be with her, thinks of her constantly, wonders how she's doing, fights the urge to message her 24/7, but it's not like that. It's too soon for that, he just really, really likes her. It's all because they aren't together, it's because he can't send a "good morning beautiful," to her every morning, because he can't tell her how often he thinks about her and how he truly feels. Once they are actually together, some of that will go away. He tells John such and gets a laughing, "Seems she's not the only one in denial."

He makes a motion like he's going to throw his plate at John's head. John stops, holding his hands up in defeat. "Fine, I won't mention it again."

So naturally, when Robin sets his plate in the sink, John comes up behind him and says in a sing-songy voice, "You _love_ her."

He doesn't even bother to respond; John is being ridiculous as always. He's not in love with her, he can't be.

* * *

When she brought up Mal's addiction in therapy, she wasn't expecting a lecture on how the language she was using was stigmatizing. She respects Tamara, thinks she's a decent counsellor, but this is not something they see eye to eye on. Mal calls herself an addict, and she's pretty sure Mal would laugh in her face if she started replacing addict with "a person who has a substance use disorder."

She more understands where Tamara is coming from when she starts lecturing Regina about the term clean. Yes, people with addictions who are using are not dirty, but it's the language Mal uses, so it's what Regina has.

She will admit it is an interesting thing to think about, and in a different scenario, if she happened upon the 2010 study Tamara mentioned herself, she probably would have been very interested. But right now, she has issues she needs help with, and this is wasting valuable time in their session.

She's afraid to vocalize that though and get led into a discussion of why, so she holds her tongue and hopes they move on soon.

They do, eventually, but not in a way she expects. Tamara basically tells her that recovery is in Mal's hands, and support is all Regina can offer, and if she wants more guidance she might be better off talking to Mal's sponsor or contacting one of the local NA groups. Then she diverts them by saying, "I think we should talk about Robin."

"Why would we do that?" She wants to talk about Mal, wants confirmation she's doing the right thing, or at least an opinion, but it is one that Tamara is refusing to give for some reason. Maybe if she answers Tamara's questions, she'll get her answers, but she's not holding her breath.

"He was with you when all of this happened. He's the one you turned to for support, and it's not the first time."

"And…"

"Well, Mal is your best friend, but given that the situation involves her, it's logical to reach out to someone else you are close with. And you are _close_ with Robin, aren't you?"

That tone takes away any doubt Regina had over whether Tamara remembers Regina's story of trying soothe to her anxiety with sex with Robin.

"He's a friend."

"One that you have sex with on a regular basis?" She doesn't bother answering, and Tamara goes on, "And one that you have long talks with, share what's burdening you, seek solace from?"

She doesn't necessarily agree she seeks solace from Robin; he's just happened to be there when she needed someone. But the rest is true, so she nods and says, "Yeah, sort of."

"You say he's just a friend, but it sounds like far more than that, at least from where I'm sitting."

This is straying into uncomfortable territory. "It's not… he doesn't feel that way."

"But you do," Tamara states matter of factly.

"No… I…" God, this is therapy, if she can't admit this here, what is she even doing? "Okay, _maybe_ I do, but it doesn't matter."

If she wants this to work, she needs to let go of that hesitance, be open, but it's hard for some reason. Merely thinking about going into the nitty-gritty of how she feels for Robin has her pulse racing and her chest tightening.

"Why not? Wouldn't it be better to know where you actually stand, rather than keep going in circles?"

Yes, logically it would, but right now, she has the same feeling she does when she thinks of confronting Robin about it—paralyzing fear and rising anxiety. She takes a slow, measured breath out, holds, then back in, as she tries to get a grip. She should not get this wound up over a simple suggestion; it's ridiculous.

"Why is this agitating you?" Tamara asks, and she tells her honestly, _I don't know._ She wishes she did, but this is one time where she has absolutely no clue as to why this is triggering.

Tamara studies her for a second, then asks, "Have you ever been in love before Regina?"

That seems to her to be an odd segue, but that's the name of the game tonight it seems. "I have, once."

"Mmm, okay, and how did that end?"

She wishes she could see into Tamara's brain, could understand the thought process behind this inquiry. At first, she thought Tamara was thinking that she's in love with Robin, but now she's not so sure. She can usually at least imagine what Tamara's thinking of her, but not this time. She sighs loudly as she thinks back to the demise of her relationship with Daniel Colter. She ruined everything there, like she always does.

"It ended… badly."

"How so?"

It's the worst thing she's ever done in her life, only Mal and Daniel know the full extent of it. It makes her sick just thinking about it. "He told me he wanted to marry me. We were seventeen, and I hadn't even gotten the courage to say the words I love you yet. He started planning our future, where we would live once we graduated high school, as if it was a given we would move in together and…" She's not going to cry, it was a long time ago, and she's stronger than that. "And I _freaked out_. I couldn't stop thinking about what he said about wanting to have a family together. I was seventeen, not even old enough to drink legally, and suddenly we're moving in together and having babies. It was… too much, and it felt like the walls were closing in. I needed an escape, an out…"

"So you gave yourself one?"

She nods, swallowing heavily before she continues, "I did. I slept with someone else, a friend of his. I didn't even like him, I just…" she buries her face in her hands for a minute, her cheeks hot against her cold hands. "And it was terrible, I felt like shit the whole time. What kind of a person does _that_ to someone they love? Then I broke up with him because he deserved so much better than me. I told him I didn't love him, and I'll never forget the look on his face or hearing him cry. The worst was that he comforted _me_ after, said it was okay, that these things happen. That's the kind of guy he was. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, I wanted to try and make it work, but that was unfair after what I had done. The guilt and pain were supposed to be _my_ burden. Then he found out what I had done, then he saw me for who I really was, for the awful person I had become. It was heartbreaking, but I deserved it. He hates me now, as he should."

"Are you saying that loving him made you terrible?"

"God, no." She shakes her head because that's so far from the truth. He was such a good person—it was her that was the problem. "No, never. He made me better, then I went and burned it all to the ground."

"Tell me about your mother."

"What? What does _she_ have to do with _this_?" Is this expose all of her scars day? Next is she going to ask her to recount every horrible thing she's ever done in her life or her every failure? Ten minutes ago (good god, how did that only take ten minutes?) she was stressing about time moving too fast, now she'd do anything for these last eight minutes of their session to conclude.

"Everything I'd wager, so humour me."

Eight more minutes, she can handle that. Besides, it won't even be that long with her homework and wrap up. She gives herself a minute, remembering that the five-minute warning Tamara sets at the beginning of every session will go off shortly, and this will all wind down. "She's a cold hearted bitch, but I still love her and crave the attention and affection she'll never give me. Is that enough or do you need to hear more about how awful she is?"

"Do you feel like you aren't good enough for her?"

She can't help the snort that comes out at that because hello, that's how her mother raised her, always reminding her no matter what she did, she could always be better.

Tamara asks, "Care to elaborate on that noise?"

"We don't have enough time left to dig into my mommy issues, and frankly, I don't have the energy for it tonight. Can we please, _please_ leave it for another week?"

Tamara purses her lips, then looks at her watch, "You are right about the time, so you get a break this week, but your mother is an area of your life we haven't explored that we need to."

Great, that's going to be awful, but at least it's next week's problem. She isn't given homework, which is unusual but appreciated and probably a result of them going far off course in the session. Though she's given a break, her brain is bouncing with Daniel, Mother and Robin, trying to piece together how it's all related. At least with Robin, she can't do to him what she did to Daniel, can't hurt him that way because they aren't together. The only one at risk is herself, and maybe it's karmic for her to be hurt by this relationship, she deserves more pain after all that she's caused.

* * *

To say she's surprised when Killian asks her if they can talk in private after class on Thursday would be an understatement. Outside of a few drunken (usually more so on his part) conversations at parties, they haven't really interacted. She has a fleeting thought that maybe he's going to ask her out—she has caught him checking out her ass more than once—but dismisses it because she's fairly certain he's the kind of guy who wouldn't wait for a private moment.

His place is only minutes from the law building, so his request they go there makes sense, but she's still not sure what he wants to talk about. It's snowing when they step outside, which makes her turn up her nose. It's March, they should be done with snow. She's had it with winter, she'd like it to turn into spring, but the weather isn't agreeing. Killian seems nervous as they walk, and she can't for the life of her figure out why he would be. Nothing she can come up with explains his behaviour. The only thing that might is if he's about to ask for her tutoring, but from what she's heard he's actually quite smart, it's just well hidden.

She makes small talk about their torts lecture as they walk, there had been considerable discussion in class today after Professor Gepetto explained the concept of foreseeability, using bizarre examples such as cows eating staples from a downed fence and a kid stealing a snowmobile, hitting the propane tank and blowing up a school. She's pretty sure he went for the oddest and most dramatic examples to emphasize his point.

Killian doesn't say much, but he clearly understood the lecture, and she catches a glimpse of that smart side of him—the one that up until now she had only heard about.

He leads her inside, gesturing for her to sit on the couch in the front living room and offering her a drink. She declines the offer, and he goes off to get what she assumes is a drink for himself.

Her confusion only grows when he comes back empty handed, and says, "Sorry, just wanted to make sure no one would overhear this."

"And what is _this_?"

Killian's shoulders rise then fall. "Mal, uh, came over to see me yesterday."

Oh. Oh, that's why she's here, suddenly it all adds up. She feels stupid for not realizing it sooner. Here she was sassing Killian in her head when she's the one that's dumb. She doesn't know what he knows, so she asks, "What did she tell you?"

"That she'd slipped, badly. I didn't even know she was an addict, if I had I wouldn't have…" Guilt is evident on his face, and she wants to reach out and comfort him somehow, but they don't know each other well enough for that, so she settles on a sympathetic sound. "I'm the one who hooked her up with a dealer. After we got high the first time, she asked for my guy's number, talked about not wanting to mooch, and I didn't think anything of it. If I had kept getting it for her, I would have known—I could have _done something_ …"

"You can't get caught up in the what-ifs." She really needs to practice what she preaches, but it is solid advice.

"I know, I just, I feel bad. I'm the one who offered her coke. I'm the reason she started again."

"No, _you_ are not." She knows Mal would tell him this if she were here, thinks perhaps she already did, and Killian's looking for someone to validate him blaming himself. "If she wanted it, she would have gotten it one way or another. As you said, you didn't know she was an addict, but she is, and when that takes over, she'll get high somehow."

"I can't help but feel responsible because it was me that gave it to her that first time though. That's what started the slide."

She reaches for his hand, squeezes it as she tells him, "You know law school was the first time in my life I ever got offered cocaine at a party? And it wasn't by you. If you hadn't given it to her, it just would have been someone else…" she doesn't finish the thought with _and something more dangerous_ , but she doesn't have to; she can tell from Killian's face he's thinking the same thing. The fentanyl crisis is not something she'd considered up until this moment, and it makes a chill run down her spine. _Can you even lace cocaine with fentanyl?_ she wonders, then decides she's better off not knowing.

"My guy is clean, what he says it is, it is."

"That is important…" this time Killian is the one squeezing her hand. She offers him a soft smile, but there's no way it reaches her eyes. They both shift, hands falling apart, sitting in silence for a moment, the mood somber.

"I was going to ask if I should tell my guy not to sell to her anymore, but I guess I have my answer."

"Would he even do that?"

Killian nods, and she's surprised. She's trying not to judge, but why the hell is he close enough with his drug dealer that he can ask for that.

Killian explains, "He's a friend of my brother's, and I've referred him a lot of business so…"

"Ah," she says, and now she's wondering how his brother knew this guy, is he a dealer too? She won't ask because it doesn't matter. So she changes the subject by remarking, "You know I'm surprised she told you, but that's good, really good."

Killian shrugs, "We're pretty close, and you know it's usually us and maybe some others off doing blow. It took guts, but I'm glad she told me. I won't be offering, and I told her I'd been thinking about quitting, too, so now I have. We're going to keep each other on track."

Her eyebrows rise slightly, then fall, she wasn't expecting that, and she finds it touching, bets Mal did, too. There's a lot about Killian she didn't know; he's obviously a better guy than she realized. There's far more to him than the good time party boy she usually sees.

"That's really great of you."

"I don't know about that. I've been wanting it more, so I need to stop. Besides, it's almost April, why not start a couple of weeks early?"

She doesn't get the relevance so asks, "April?"

"I go sober for exam season. Mal is going to do it with me, too. I'm still drinking right up until 11:59 on March 31st, though."

She chuckles at the ending, also feeling comforted by the fact Mal has committed to not drinking for a while. It goes to show Mal was right, if she can give it up so easily her drinking isn't an issue. "I didn't realize you guys were so close.

"Yeah, we're really good friends. I care about her a lot. I know she hasn't been having the easiest time, I didn't know the extent, but we've had some good talks. We've gotten really close this semester, well, only once I stopped trying to get into her pants." She can't help the snicker that falls out of her at that, and Killian laughs, too, "Yeah, I mean, can you blame me? She's hot, but she made it clear friends only, and I'm cool with that."

"You are full of surprises."

"How so?"

She hopes this doesn't come out wrong, "I didn't know it was that easy to get you to stop flirting."

"I respect the no. And I have rules, too, you know, that's why I don't hit on you; I don't go after my friends' girls."

She fights the urge to tell him she's not Robin's girl because she knows what he means, and it's a good philosophy to follow. Though they aren't something, she'd be livid if Kathryn or Mal slept with Robin—they wouldn't, she knows that—but even if it were Ursula, who she doesn't see all that much because they are in different sections, she'd be pissed, and she hasn't even discussed Robin with her.

There's a noise outside, she can hear someone approaching, and they both look to see Merlin walking toward the door.

She gets up and grabs it when Killian doesn't move.

"Thanks, Regina," Merlin tells her once she's opened door, stepping into the room. "I'm glad you got up since Killian likes to lock us all out."

"Why am I not at all surprised?"

Killian shrugs, "It's funny."

"To _you_ ," Merlin says, then turns back to her. "Are you staying long?"

She looks over at Killian. She's pretty sure they were done, and she should get going, but she doesn't want to leave if he still has things he wants to talk about. "I was thinking of heading out actually unless there's something else you needed, Killian."

He shakes his head, so she bids them both goodbye and heads home to study. She thinks of Robin as she walks and misses him, which is silly, because she saw him in class less than an hour ago. She wants to see him, briefly considers asking him over, but she's already really behind on her work, and she needs to stop seeing him so much. She should be able to go five days without hanging out with him alone, without a thought. She blames Tamara and her session for why she's thinking of him, even though she often does. She tells herself when she's caught up on her work, then she can see him, and the sex will be her reward, until then, no Robin.

* * *

Killian's place has rapidly become the place for parties. He's pretty sure they have hosted some sort of event, whether a pre or a party, every weekend since they returned to school. It's nice to have these get-togethers, and it's a chance to see people outside of class and people from other sections. Tonight there's more people than usual he doesn't know, it's Emma Swan's birthday, and she's in section three, so he suspects most of the people he's unfamiliar with are in her classes. He's not surprised Killian offered to host Emma's birthday here, given that he has a huge crush on her. Robin doesn't see the appeal in her, but Killian's a good guy, so he hopes it works out.

He had hoped to see Regina here, but he texted her earlier and was disappointed when she said she wasn't coming. She mentioned she wasn't invited, and he'd assured her it was an open invite, but she wasn't interested.

He misses her. This is the first week in a long time they haven't spent time outside of school together. He got spoiled when they started going to the gym together, had two weeks of seeing her three days on, one day off, before she quit on him. He keeps trying to get her back into it, partly because she wanted to do it, but mostly because he wants to see her. He feels like he could spend every minute of every day with her and not get bored. He knows logically that's not true, he would need a bit of time to himself, but he craves her presence so much he thinks about crazy things like living together.

He needs to ask her out properly, needs to tell her how he feels. Things appear to have settled down with Mal, so he could at any time, just needs to see her. He's scared though, there is that creeping doubt that what if he's wrong, or what if even if she does feel half as much of what he does, she still wants to be casual. He thinks that would kill him more than if she didn't have feelings for him.

He's in way too deep, and there's only one thing to do about it, and he will, soon. But for tonight, he's going to enjoy Emma's birthday party and will hold onto the silly hope Regina will show here or the club later saying she changed her mind.

He's aimlessly drinking his beer, walking around to see who all is here, and stopping to chat every few minutes. When he makes it to the back of the house, he discovers it's started to snow again. He stares at it for a minute, the soft flakes slowly descending in a way he finds utterly entrancing, so much so that Mal's voice startles him. She was teasing him about what he was staring at, but switches to making fun of his jumpiness, which is probably fair. He's not ordinarily jumpy, but he was more into the snow than he realized, never even heard her approaching him.

He changes the subject away from him by asking how she's doing. He doesn't think anything of the question until her eyes narrow, and she huffs out a, "She told you, didn't she?"

That leaves him in a bit of a bind. He doesn't want to lie to Mal, but he also doesn't want to cause issues between the two friends, who need each other right now. He stays silent for a little too long, and Mal sighs, "It's fine… I guess. I didn't… she hadn't mentioned it is all, but I'm not mad."

He breathes a sigh of relief, because thank god. "Oh good, and yes, she was quite worried about you last Saturday, and needed someone to talk to."

Mal nods, then surprises the hell out of him. "I'm glad you were there for her, she needs that. She likes to keep things in, but it's not good. I push her, but when I'm the issue that doesn't really work."

"I wouldn't… er, um…" God, why can't he string a sentence together? " _You_ aren't an issue."

She smiles softly at that. "My issues were the issue, is that better?"

He nods, "It is."

"They are going to start up some beer pong in here soon, wanna claim a table and be my partner? I'm sick of losing."

"Did you just compliment me?"

She snickers, "I mean you and _Regina_ won, so I know you can single handedly carry a team, but, don't let it go to your head. You can throw a ping pong ball into a cup, it's not exactly a critical life skill."

He laughs and agrees to be her partner. How could he not after that? They set up the cups and get challenged by Killian and Emma, who they crush twice in a row. Maybe it's wrong to so brutally defeat a birthday girl, definitely is to rub it in the way Mal is, and he probably shouldn't laugh, but he is.

They make an incredible team, so good that they are undefeated when people start to leave for the club. Clubs don't hold that much appeal to him, and as much as he's been having fun, he thinks he might call it a night. Mal stifles a yawn beside him, and he thinks she's probably having the same debate he is: to go out or not. He worries for a second she'll find a way to energize herself and tells himself to snap out of it. He's not her keeper, and she's been doing well, has given him no reason to doubt her.

Emma starts to usher people out, saying cabs have been ordered, and he's just decided to call it quits when Merlin says he's staying up for a bit longer if anyone else doesn't feel like going. He takes Lin up on the offer, as does Mal, and Will Scarlett, who he somehow missed seeing all night.

He chats aimlessly with Will for a bit, catching up with him, learning he had only just arrived and is catching up to go meet the gang later. Apparently, Will is notorious for arriving late, usually right as the group is heading out.

He finishes off his last beer, bowing out of Will's offer of shots, which Mal accepts. Will starts trying to talk them into joining him at the club, and though he's quite persuasive, they all remain unconvinced.

There's another round of shots, then Will's ordering a cab. Lin mentions wanting to go to bed, so they wait outside with Will. Mal lights up a smoke and gives him one when he asks. They've barely taken a drag each when Will's cab shows up. He jumps in the cab with a wave and a yelled goodbye that has them both chuckling.

They eye each other and seem to come to a silent understanding they will finish their smoke before heading their separate ways. It's nearly one in the morning, and he thinks he ought to walk her home, if she's planning on walking, that is.

He's about to offer when she beats him to the punch and asks, "What are you doing with Regina?"

"I'm…" That is the question, isn't it? "I'm not sure what you are looking for here."

"If you break her heart, I'll kill you."

There's little chance of that—he's the one who's in too deep, likely to get his heart trampled on. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Seriously, Robin. I like you, I do, but she's my _best friend_."

"I would never want to hurt her. I like her, far too much."

Mal smiles, "Good, she's a catch; you'd be lucky to have her."

"Oh, I am well aware of that," he tells her as he discards his butt out into the snow. Not the best practice, but Killian was telling people to do it all night, so there's really no harm.

Mal takes one last drag then follows suit.

"Can I walk you home?" he asks, and she shakes her head, explaining she's going to order an Uber. It's a good decision, and he waits for her car with her despite her protests, earning himself a hug goodbye for his efforts. She stumbles into the car, and Robin thinks back to all the drinks he saw her have, realizing she must be much farther gone than he thought. He should have gone with her, ensured she got home okay, but she got herself an Uber and into it, so she should be fine.

He's halfway home when his Fitbit buzzes on his wrist. He expects it to be Mal saying she got home safe, but it's even better. It's a text from Regina asking what he is doing. If she's changed her mind and wants to go out now, he'll go in a heartbeat. He tells her that and that he's just leaving the party.

It turns out she can't sleep, that she woke up half an hour ago wide wake, and he makes a hail mary pass, asking if she wants some company, fully expecting to get shot down.

He's staring at his phone when her: _I'm not getting up, but if you wanted to come over and spend the night, I wouldn't say no,_ pops up, and he responds instantly.

 _On my way_

They trade flirty texts as he walks over, and she greets him at the door, clad in a flannel nightgown that leaves enough bare leg to have his mouth growing dry. She looks stunning but sleepy, and as he follows her to her room and she yawns loudly, he thinks he'd better wait for morning to seduce her. He strips down to his boxers and undershirt before joining her in bed. As he pulls her into his arms, the flannel brushing against him, he realizes he's never slept with her in pajamas before, she always sleeps in the nude post-sex. He runs his hand along the soft fabric as she settles into the crook of his chest. It doesn't take long at all for his eyes to grow heavy, and a look at her sleeping peacefully proves he was right to wait.

* * *

She wakes up with one of Robin's hands on her boob, gently gripping the soft skin in his palm, and erection pressed against her ass that has her breath deepening as anticipation takes over. She nudges her ass gently back into him, feeling tendrils of warmth start up as she thinks about having him. She imagines him slipping inside her just like this, and rocking against her lazily until she can't take it anymore, then thrusting hard and fast, hitting her g-spot perfectly while rubbing at her clit.

She feels a lick of satisfaction over the fact that he's here in her bed, that he left Emma Swan's birthday to come here and be with _her_. She'd been extraordinarily jealous when he said he was at Emma's party, and when she'd woken up in the middle of the night she'd had this need to text him, to see where he was, or more importantly where he wasn't. She knew he wasn't sleeping with Emma, but knowing they were together ate at her, especially after they danced together at her birthday. She knows it's a product of her history with Emma, and that she was being ridiculous, but she's less mad about her stupid feelings now that it's given her the opportunity for an orgasm.

In that vein, she reaches into the nightstand to pull out a condom, then shifts against him again, grinding back against where he's so hard. She gets rewarded with a low groan, and she turns to find his eyes blinking open.

"G'mrnin," he slurs as he pulls her in closer. She closes the distance between them, presses her lips to his, her hands coming down to his hips, and together they rid him of his boxers. His hands come to her hips, pushing her nightgown up, then off, as his fingers rub soft circles over her clit that are delightfully teasing. They kiss and kiss as he works her up, one finger slipping down and in, then another, his thumb keeping up steady pressure on her clit. When her breathing starts to hitch, her cheeks flushing, he pulls his fingers away, slips on the condom and slowly enters her, both of them gasping in the space between them as he stretches her. When he's in all the way, he pauses and kisses her languidly.

He starts up a rhythm that's slow but wonderful, like she'd pictured earlier, but better because he's able to grind his hips against hers to create delicious friction that begins to build her up and up. They never stop kissing, lips meeting over and over, as hands roam, and he thrusts into her with a steady, measured pace. It feels nice, and so intimate. She loves being with him like this, loves feeling close to him, connecting in this way. It's been a long time since she's felt this kind of connection during sex, and it makes these rounds, the gentle savourings of each other, that much better.

Heat grows inside her, and her breath starts coming out in gasps as he picks up the pace just a little. It makes things go from nice to _good_ , has her need growing sharper, the tension starting to wind up.

She flips them then, pinning his hands down and moving atop him, finding just the right angle where every thrust hits her g-spot perfectly, sends heat flashing through her core.

"Oh fuck, that's it, love, take what you need." His breath stutters out, and he groans loudly as she clenches on him after a particularly strong surge of pleasure rushes through her.

She frees his hands, directs one down and _oh, yes_. He spirals his fingers on her clit, and it feels so good, her belly is clenching, thighs growing tense as she ruts against him harder, planting her hands down on either side of his head.

"You look so hot right now, god, you have no idea. Wanna see you come, are you cl—"

She nods frantically and cuts him off with a kiss, her hips stuttering as he fucks up into her from below and everything lines up perfectly.

"God, like that," she pants, and he continues to thrust into her deliciously, those spirals on her clit getting firmer and making her cry out as he tells her that he's close and that he needs her to come.

The tension is mounting as she uses her one hand to flip her hair out of her face so that she can see him again, and she moans at the sight. He's biting his lip, looking so hot and desperate for her, just the sight has her even closer.

He pants out, "God, love, I c—ah—an't," his face twisting with the effort of holding back, and she feels it swamp her. She throws her head back as the tension springs out, pleasure rushing out under her skin from where they are joined. She loses her rhythm as she comes, but he fucks her harder, prolonging the blissful sensation as he groans and comes himself.

She flops down onto his chest, laying there, him still inside her as they come back down. They end up sharing a shower, which leads to another orgasm for her after his teasing touches while washing her, rile her back up again.

She makes them coffee, then breakfast, and it's the best morning she's had in a while. She has a lot of work to do, and she needs to get to it, but she gives herself until eleven to enjoy his company before she has to start working. When eleven comes around, she bids him goodbye with a soft kiss at her door that leaves her all smiley as she goes to start her work.


	13. March III

**TW: parental illness and alcohol abuse**

* * *

He hasn't seen much of Regina this week, they've both been trying to catch up on work, her far more successfully than him. He's starting to feel the crunch now, he kept thinking they had all this time, but they only have three more weeks of classes, and two of their professors mentioned studying for exams this week. He's nowhere near ready, needs to get his ass in gear, so he has started trying to put his notes together into something coherent.

Regina is an incredible influence, she's so smart, always so prepared and every time she tells him she's behind or that she's working late to catch up, it guilts him into doing work. Her near panic over how little time is left has stopped him from telling himself he has tons of time and using that to justify his procrastination.

He's sure he's working less than she is, but it's a lot more than he normally would. He tried her little timer trick, where he had a stopwatch going and had to stop it every time he went off task, checked his phone or went to the bathroom and was shocked to discover how much time he wasted in an hour of "work."

He's currently looking over his criminal law notes, making sure he understands what he wrote and if not, going over the cases. He's playing music as he does, jamming out to Billboard Country because John's not home to make fun of him. Merry is coiled up on his lap sleeping soundly, a little ball of warmth and comfort he keeps smiling down at.

His progress is interrupted by his phone ringing. He feels his Fitbit vibrate on his wrist and frowns when he sees it's his dad calling. His dad is not one to call him out of the blue, and for some reason, he's filled with a sense of dread as he answers.

It's late over there, well not late per se, but it's eight-thirty and his parents usually go to bed around nine.

His dad sounds off as he responds to Robin's hello with a, "Hi, son."

He asks, "Is everything alright?" and his dad sighs, which just increases the nervous ache in his chest, that sense that something terrible has happened.

"I… I don't want you to worry, but…" That's not the best way to start off if there isn't cause for concern, "your mother is missing—"

"She's _what_?"

His dad hesitates, and god, he knew something was wrong, knew it was something bad. "She went out for a run two hours ago and never came back. I'm sure it's nothing, but her phone's here, so I'm going to post something, but I wanted to tell you first so you didn't see it on Facebook and worry."

Fat load of good that did. "Well, I am worried. What if something happened to her?"

"I'm sure she just got turned around, will probably be home soon, I'm just being cautious."

That doesn't make him feel any better but he doesn't want to keep his dad any longer than he has to, wants him to get to looking for her. But first, "Did you check her usual route? Maybe she got hurt." He's hit with an image of his mum crumpled over, shivering in the park, having tripped on a root and sprained her ankle, unable to make her way back.

"I drove along when I started to get worried but didn't see her. I'm going to try a different way she sometimes takes, but it's all on foot so I want to get everything all set up first."

Fuck, fuck. This is bad, really bad, he knows his dad is saying not to panic, that it's likely fine, but his mind is conjuring up all of these scenarios, each one more terrible than the rest.

"Okay, you should go do that. Please, please keep me updated. Let me know as soon as you find her."

"I will, I promise."

"I love you, Dad."

"Love you too, gotta go. Bye for now."

He hangs up before Robin can say goodbye. Merry stirs in his lap, and that's about that on doing work. He knows he can't do anything to help, just has to wait and see but he's too antsy to concentrate, and reading his notes on murder is not going to help his piece of mind.

* * *

It's a full hour until his dad texts him a short _We've found her, she's okay_ that both eases his worry and causes far more questions. He's so relieved she's okay, it's like a weight has been lifted, but it's not enough. He doesn't want to burden them, but also he needs to hear from his mum, needs to know she's okay, needs to know what the hell happened.

He shouldn't bother them, should just leave them be, but for ten minutes he stares at his phone, willing it to ring, typing up messages to both of them he doesn't send, his fingers itching to call them.

He breaks down and calls her, letting out a sigh of relief when she answers with an, "I'm fine, honey, really. There was no need to worry."

"Mum, what happened? I know Dad said you were alright but were you hurt?"

"No, nothing of the sort. I just… got a little turned around and couldn't find my way back."

That's fishy to him because, "But you have a great sense of direction."

"Yes, well, it's called getting old, Robin, it's nothing to worry about. All's well that ends well, and I'm fine, just need to make sure I bring my phone with me when I go out."

"Are you sure that's it?" he asks, because he's been struggling all winter with this feeling that something is wrong, that they are hiding something from him, and this incident makes him even more suspicious.

"Oh, yes, that's all, nothing to worry about."

That's the second time she's said that and all it does is make him think there _is_ something to worry about. Then he hears his dad in the background, and makes out, "tell him, Margaret, it's not fair," and his chest tightens so much it's suddenly hard to breathe.

He forces out, " _What_ is Dad talking about?" as he tries in vain not to panic. Fuck, fuck something is really wrong.

"I… oh, honey, this really isn't the time. It's late and—"

No, he can't handle that. He needs to know. "It's not late here, please, what is it?"

She hesitates and this time his dad speaks loud enough he can hear every word, "If you don't tell him, I will."

Shit, shit. He knew there was something wrong, and fuck, what is it? Is she going to be okay? His mind immediately goes to the worst. He doesn't want it to, but all he can think is, is she dying?

"I didn't want to burden you with this before your exams, honey. And I don't have to…"

Not knowing will kill him, "No, please, just tell me, whatever it is we can get through it. I love you, Mum."

"I love you, too, honey."

He waits and she says nothing for a second, and it takes everything in him not to snap at her to get on with it. He can tell whatever it is is difficult for her—which only serves to make him more scared—but the not knowing is driving him mad.

"I, um, I have early onset Alzheimers."

"You, you, you what?" He can't seem to form a thought, his mind is reeling. This can't be real, he must have misheard her. She's far too young for that, it can't be true. This can't be happening to her, it can't be real, it can't be.

His stomach turns, and it's hard to breathe again as she tells him, "I'm sorry, honey. I love you so much, and I know this is hard—"

"You know, you know that, huh. Then why didn't you tell me before?" His eyes burn with tears and he knows he shouldn't be getting mad at her, that it's not her fault, but he is drowning and the only thing he can get out is a bitterly broken off, "How long have you _known_?"

"I got diagnosed just before Christmas."

"Christmas? Christmas, so you've been keeping this from me _for three months_?" He knew something was wrong then, he did, but he'd pushed it aside and he shouldn't have. No wonder his dad wanted him to go home for reading week, for the summer. He should have gone home, should have been there for her, would have if she'd just told him.

God, she's been suffering silently for at least three months, has been grappling with this life-changing news the whole time he's been blabbering on about stupid shit instead of being there for her and it's terrible, he's terrible, and it's all too much.

He only half hears her explanation of, "I didn't want to ruin your Christmas, I was going to tell you when you came home."

"I… but," God, his mind is a mess and he's so angry, but not at her, or some at her, a lot at her actually, but he shouldn't be. Beating himself up about that just makes him sadder, and christ, his mum, his wonderful mother, has been going through this all practically alone, and he hadn't even told her he loves her since she told him, and he needs to, needs to tell her that every day so she can't forget, she's going to forget, she can't…

"Mum, I'm scared," is all he can get out before those tears that welled start to fall, and he's sobbing, nose running and breath hitching as he starts to process what this means. Her life as she knows it is over, it's been stolen from her by this horrible disease and he can do nothing. He can't fix it, can't make things better, can't cure her. There is nothing to be done, and it's so fucking unfair, she is the kindest person who's ever lived. She doesn't deserve this. He tries to tell himself that she's not dying, that it could be worse, but it provides little comfort, because so much of her life will be stolen away from this disease.

He needs his mum right now, needs one of her hugs, but he can't have that because he's an ocean away, in another goddamn country. He can't stay here, can't be expected to be this far away for the good times, not when it's unsure how many they'll have left.

She's talking again, whispering words of comfort, like, "Oh, honey, it's okay, it's going to be okay…"

She shouldn't have to comfort him, but he is devastated, and asks pathetically, "Is it?" in the blind hope that just maybe she knows something he doesn't, maybe it's treatable. "Is there a cure?"

"No, not yet." That dashes his last little bit of hope. Now he wishes he could go back to ignorance. Would give anything not to have this heartbreaking knowledge, to make it so this wasn't happening to his mum. He chokes back another sob, fights against the well of pain that's ravaging him.

He doesn't know what to say, doesn't want to upset her with how upset he is, so he tries to calm himself and asks the only thing he can think of, "Is that why… today happened?"

"Yes, I forgot my phone and then where I was. I took a different route and was running and all of sudden had to stop because I had no idea where I was. I couldn't get myself back, so I just waited, and eventually someone came by and was able to give me directions back."

That's terrifying, he can't imagine what that was like for her, and god, there are so many risks now, what are they going to do? How can he help her? He needs to do something.

"There is one more thing," his mum starts and his blood runs cold, what more could there be? He freezes as he waits for her to finish, "I have a gene mutation, and it's possible I…" then she starts crying, and his heart breaks all over again, "That I…" she chokes back a sob, "gave it t-o y-ou… I'm so sorry, honey. I would do anything for this not to happen to you."

How can she think he'd be mad about that? "Mum, I love you, I'm not… I can't…"

Fuck, he can't finish his sentence, he's too overcome, he's never heard her this devastated, not even when her parents died, and it's too much, he can't. They stay on the line crying until he feels numb and almost lifeless. He doesn't want to hang up, doesn't want to stop talking to her, because who knows when the last time will be, but he knows she needs to go to bed, is probably as, if not more, emotionally exhausted as he is.

He hasn't even really processed what she said about him, about the chance he could get it, too caught up in the here and now, and the reality that his mother has it and what that means for the rest of her life. It's not fair, it's so fucking unfair, he wants to scream. There has to be some mistake, this cannot be real, it can't be.

He doesn't feel any better when he lets her go, but she promises to call him as soon as she's done with work tomorrow, and he tries to take comfort in the fact that she's still at work, but it's hollow. Once they've said goodbye, he curls up in his bed holds his pillow and sobs.

* * *

He hasn't told a soul, is going through the motions because he doesn't know what else to do. He can't stop and breakdown because if he does then he doesn't think he'll ever stop.

He went to class this morning, sat through it and forced himself to concentrate on the lecture, not to let his mind wander back to his mum and her devastating condition. It did, more than once, and he felt the sorrow start to overtake, felt the tears that wanted to fall and he pushed it all away, focused back on the lecture. It was easier having something else to focus on, to reach for to pull him back. Being alone with his thoughts is too dangerous right now, and he's not ready to open up, to say the words aloud, to make them real. He doesn't want sympathy, to be told to keep his head up or listen to reasons why it will all be okay, because it's not going to be okay, not ever. Everything has changed, and he is not ready to deal with that.

He's in a haze, but it's working for him, as best it can. He had only broken the haze briefly after class to talk to his mum, but even then they'd kept it light, allowed him to fake it. That's what he needs right now, to pretend it's all okay, to be allowed to do that, not forced to face the awful reality and she let him. She'd even asked if he was still going out to the St. Patrick's Day party, reminding him that it is, in fact, that day. It hadn't even crossed his mind until she mentioned it, though he had been planning on going out before he received the news that turned his world upside down. Maybe that's what he needs, to be surrounded by drunk people, to get that way himself and forget about everything, just for the night. He can drink himself to excess and no one will care, no one will question it.

Yes, that's what he'll do to keep himself away from the dark thoughts he keeps burying, he'll surround himself with people having fun and fake it until he makes it. That's much better than sitting and trying in vain not to wallow.

Half the people are already wasted when he arrives at Killian's even though it's only two in the afternoon. He sees more than one person who wasn't in the morning lecture, who were probably drinking all morning. Maybe he should have done that too, but then he wouldn't have been good company in a smaller group and would have had to stay sober long enough to talk to his mum.

That thought sends a sharp lance of pain through his stomach and no, that's not why he's here, is not what he should be thinking of. He can't succumb to the grief, needs to push it away. He focuses on getting a beer from the keg, challenges the guy beside him to chug it and they do just that. He tries to let the alcohol warm him, to loosen all of his tension, to wash away the sadness. He tells himself that it worked and pours himself another, drinking it in short order.

By the time he's three beers in he actually does feel slightly better, he's still hit with sorrow every time he thinks of it, but it's getting better, less sharp, more muted as he gets tipsier.

When Mal invites him to join the drinking game as her partner, he accepts, trying to let the normalcy of it pull him back fully. Somehow along the way, they end up doing shots and the world starts to get fuzzier as the pain gets duller, covered under a thick layer of alcohol.

This isn't a healthy way to deal, not at all, but it's working for him, and that's good enough for today, so he keeps drinking.

* * *

She's rewarding herself with a night out, after a week spent doing work practically every waking moment. She should keep going, but she needs a break now and then, and she's hit the point where she can't do anymore work.

Plus, she knows for a fact Robin is going to be here tonight, is probably already at Killian's, and she wants to end the night the way they usually do, naked and breathless.

She knows people have been drinking all day, but she's not at all prepared for what greets her when she arrives at Killian's around eight. There's not nearly as many people as she expected, but she's informed many had gone home already, tuckered out from their day of binge drinking. Those that remain either showed up late or are drunk off their asses, but everyone seems to be having a good time.

She's not planning on drinking too much but heeds the teasing that she's too sober and needs a shot because she does better with very drunk people when she's a bit in the bag herself.

Killian pours five green shots, one that's for her. She grimaces but hopes it's better than it looks. It's not, whatever the hell they made her shoot is absolutely disgusting, and she shudders as it goes down, not gagging by sheer force of will.

"That is awful," she tells Killian, and Mal answers with an, "it gets better the more you have," that she very much doubts is true.

She joins Mal on her chair, watching as her friend staggers into it and sits down on the arm.

"Are you good?" she whispers to her, and Mal just laughs.

"Lighten up, it's St. Patty's, you're suppose-ta-get- _plastered_."

She shakes her head, telling Mal something she already knows, "That's not really my style."

"Live a little, little one. Ooh, let's do another shot!"

That's the last thing they are going to be doing. "Yeah, that's not happening again. Why don't I get you some water while I get myself a drink?"

"Only if ya spike it!"

"Yeah, I'm not doing that," she tells her and gets up off the chair to go find cups. She brought wine for herself because she's not a beer person and pours herself a glass when she locates the stash of red solo cups.

She brings Mal back a water she's happy to see she actually drinks. The night is more chill than she expected, there's a group in the back playing drinking games, but for the most part people are content to sit around and talk, which is how she prefers it.

She and Mal chat with Killian for a while, until he's pulled away to deal with some issue with the keg (it's probably just empty). Mal leaves her to go to the bathroom, and she doesn't mind the solitude, but then she spies Robin and waves him over. She expects him to come over and take a seat, but he just waves back and walks off. It's an odd encounter but she tries not to let it bug her. He's drunk, and it's not like they are together, he doesn't have to talk to her. It's just he always does, outside of the sex they are friends, and she's always felt like he wanted to see her, to talk to her, and the fact that he doesn't now is unsettling.

It bugs her so much that she makes a point to get around the house, to make her rounds and see everyone. She catches him in the kitchen when she goes to refill her cup and smiles, asking him how his night is going. His response is short, and he doesn't seem engaged, seems like he'd rather be anywhere but with her, and it hurts. Maybe she's just imagining it, but she doesn't think so.

She shouldn't want to go home with him after this, but she does, stupidly. If anything, it makes her want to more. She wants a reassurance that this has all been in her head, that he still wants her.

When she learns he's left without saying goodbye, she feels the burn of rejection, and in an utterly pathetic move, texts him.

 _Hey, where did you run off to? I was hoping to see you tonight ;)_

When he doesn't answer right away she worries she was too subtle and adds an _I want you_ that she instantly regrets. That was far too desperate, especially since he clearly doesn't want her tonight. Maybe he's off fucking someone else, god, maybe he's found someone he actually wants to be with and is going to call this all off. While that would be best, despite being the moronic one who brought up sleeping with other people, the thought kills her. She's so stupid for getting so caught up in this, for starting to fall for him when it's only casual. It's only supposed to be hookups and it looks like he doesn't even want that anymore, if the _I'm not in the mood_ she finally gets in response is any indication.

She's going to head home, she shouldn't be upset about this, but she is and wants to go have a good wallow in the comfort of her bedroom. She finds Mal practically asleep in her chair and tells her she's leaving. Mal wants to leave too, so she waits for her, only to realize Mal is like a zombie right now. She sits down to put on her boots but can't do it herself. Regina has never seen her like this, doesn't know if she's ever seen anyone like this. She helps Mal get her boots on, has to help her get up and doesn't trust her to be able to get herself home, so she orders them an Uber and a couple of the guys help her get Mal into it when it arrives.

She's slurring drunken apologies, even though Regina keeps telling her it's fine. Unfortunately, her reassurances don't work, and as they turn onto Mal's street, Mal starts crying about how sorry she is Regina has to take care of her. When they stop, the driver is looking at Regina sympathetically but doesn't offer to help in any way. She gets Mal out of the car on her own, and is happy she brought Mal back to her own place, because Regina's place has stairs and she doesn't think they'd be able to navigate them with Mal in this state. It's hard enough to get her in the door and elevator as is, she can't imagine adding any more obstacles into the mix.

She heats up a frozen dinner, makes Mal eat it and down another glass of water, before putting her to bed and settling herself on the futon.

* * *

He should have known he couldn't hide his devastation from John, he knows him too well for that. But he appreciates John giving him the time, letting Robin come to him, not pushing him to talk about it until he was ready, which he is now. John makes time for him immediately when he knocks on his door, even asks if he can grab Robin anything before settling on the couch with him and waiting him out.

John sits stoically, listening as he relays it all to him, feeling oddly detached as he does. He's not numb, he can still feel the deep ache that hasn't gone away since he learned, he's just all cried out and in a bit of a fog. He's never cried this much in his life, is not a crier, but this has brought him to his knees.

When he finishes, John doesn't say anything at first, but he can see the sadness colouring his face. He knows this will be hard for John too, they were over at each other's houses so much as kids; John's mum is like a second mum to him, and he knows John feels the same way about his mum.

"I don't know what to say. I'm _so sorry_ , man," John tells him, looking lost. "Is there anything I can do?"

He shakes his head and John nods solemnly. Something about how thrown John is by this pulls back the haze and he's flooded with pain and bitterness over how fucking unfair this is. He thought he had no tears left, but his eyes begin to water and John's face falls. Fuck, no he is not going to cry in front of John. It's bad enough he's been so weepy since finding out, he cannot lose it like that in front of someone else, he just can't.

"I'm so so sorry, Robin. I wish I could make it okay, I wish I could tell you something to make it better…" Merry chooses that moment to jump up in between them, and John pushes her out of the way. "I am here for you, whatever you need, and I mean that. No matter what I'm doing, if you need me, I'm there, don't ever feel like you are bothering me."

He manages to choke out, "Thanks, man," then John's arms encircle him. They aren't normally physical people, but it's what he needs right now, and he melts into the hug, stealing all the comfort he can from the embrace.

They end up staying on the couch, talking it over, both reeling.

"You know," John starts, "she messaged me on Thursday night, asking me to look out for you. I knew you'd tell me when you were ready, but god, I never expected this…"

Neither did he, for all his fretting over what was wrong, Alzherimers had never ever crossed his mind.

"She's so worried about me, now, and it's just… she's such a good person. She shouldn't have to worry about how I'm doing with all of this…"

"She's your mom, she's always going to worry about you. Don't feel guilty about that."

He does though, he feels so much right now, and guilt is a part of the messy concoction, and one of the many things he's feeling that isn't doing him any good. He wants to put on a brave face for her, to at least take that stress from her, since that's really all he can do. But he's not quite there yet, and she knows him too well to be fooled, and wouldn't want him to hide it from her, no matter how much it hurt her.

"I just don't know what to do," he admits to John, "I want to go home, I want to be there."

"If that's what you need, then I say go, book a plane ticket and go home for a few days."

It's more than a few days though. If he goes home, he can't ever imagine leaving her and coming back. He's not stupid enough to make any major life decisions right now, but what's really tying him here? He'd miss John, of course, and Regina. She'd wanted to 'hang out' last night and he was not in the mood, but now he thinks that might be just what he needs. Not sex, but physical comfort, the hug from John was just what he needed, but he wants a good cuddle, and John is not someone he can ask that of, or maybe he could, but he won't.

She comes over an hour later, and John disappears into his room, giving them some space. He ends up taking her into his room, and they sit on his bed as he tells her how his whole world has shattered.

She holds him, her arms tight across him as she strokes his back and whispers words of sympathy, tells him to let it out, and he does. He lets the emotion pour out of him, finding solace in the warmth of her body, in the strength of her embrace. She tells him she is here for him and he feels it as he sits here in her arms.

A few more tears fall along the way, but it's surprisingly not embarrassing. She doesn't draw direct attention to it, doesn't comment on it, but does wipe a stray tear off of his face so affectionately that he smiles for the first time in days. It's short lived, but it's something. They sit on his bed snuggling, her hand in his hair, stroking softly, her presence enveloping him, providing a comfort he can't explain but is so grateful for. He's never needed physical affection in the way he does now, and she lavishes it on him, cradling him, nuzzling him and hugging him for what feels like hours.

They only break to eat because she insists on it, preparing a dinner for both him and John, brushing his arm, squeezing his leg and holding his hand at every chance.

He's still wrecked, but he feels marginally better, and that's enough for now. They all watch a movie and she tucks up into his chest, curled around him as snugly as she can be. He doesn't even ask her to stay, but she does anyway, and she entwines their bodies even more when they lay down to sleep. They press up together, cuddled up under the sheets, and maybe this will only make things more complicated in the long run, but it's helping and he clings to it, to her. Nothing will magically fix this, but some of the weight has been lifted now that he's told the two people who mean the most to him outside of his parents. Neither tried to fix it or him, just let him be, and provided comfort where they could. Amongst everything, he is grateful for that.

He wakes up spooned against her, his cock hard and pressing into her ass as she stretches her back before turning to face him. Could he even have sex now while so vulnerable? He's not sure, won't ask for it because it feels wrong with all that's happened. He shoulnd't be thinking about sex now and wouldn't be if it weren't for morning wood. He shouldn't initiate it, that would feel off. He'll just let it abate.

She looks down at it, then her hand is stroking over him softly, questioningly, and it feels nice, so he nods. The idea of an orgasm is appealing, the idea of feeling anything other than awful is especially appealing. She kisses him softly at first, then with more passion as he tries to concentrate on the here and now, distract himself completely, lose himself to the feeling. She pushes off his pajama pants and descends down, taking him in her mouth in a way that has him gasping and pleasure blooming.

This is it, this is good, _this_ he can focus on. He loses himself to the pleasure of her mouth, to the wet, warm suction and gentle friction that starts to build as she takes more of him and moves faster against him.

It's over embarrassingly fast, but he just doesn't have it in him to hold back. He spills into her mouth with a relieved cry, relishing at the pulses of pleasure that run through him. He sags against the bed as she crawls up his chest, burrowing herself there.

He feels a faint lick of guilt over doing that, over enjoying something, but he pushes it away.

He should return the favour, but he really doesn't feel up to it, and when she assures him that was for him, he feels another pop of guilt that he also ignores.

He ends up falling back asleep, soothed back under by the spiral of her hand against his chest. This time when he wakes it's to the sweet aroma of brewing coffee and breakfast in bed. He probably shouldn't be letting her do this, but she wants to, and it's helping, so he does. He'll indulge in this for today, then work on getting back to normal, or some form of it tomorrow. For now though, he's going to let the woman he loves take care of him.


	14. March IV

He feels trapped in this sea of emotions, like there is no way out, and everything he tries to do to pull himself out just backfires. It's been five days, he should feel better by now, but he doesn't. He doesn't care about anything, it's like he's lost all will for everything except sitting around moping. He hasn't gone to class once this week, hasn't made a meal—and probably wouldn't have eaten if it weren't for John and Regina. He only showered with an incentive from his not-girlfriend, who he's been letting taking care of everything for him, which he should stop but can't find the drive to do so.

She cleaned the apartment, with John's help, which was honestly a bit of a miracle because John is such a slob, but he's been better this week without Robin picking up his slack. He wishes he could care because he's been nagging John to clean more for ages, but he just doesn't.

He and John have their oral arguments for their moot tomorrow and he does not give a shit, would just not go and fail the assignment, but that would be letting John down, and he can't do that. Maybe he could have gotten accommodated somehow, but that would have taken effort, and that's not something he has right now.

He really thought he'd be dealing with this better by now, that time would somehow make it magically less awful but it hasn't. He can't go on like this, he knows it, but he doesn't know how to pull himself out.

The only bright spot is FaceTiming with his mum. They've spoken every day since he found out, and he can't believe he once went a month without talking to her, can't believe he took that for granted. Not anymore, not ever.

He needs to see her, really see her, he already has a flight booked to go home on April 23rd, but it's not soon enough. The only reason it's so late is because of exams, but the reason he's at a Canadian law school is because he wanted to stay here, a choice he's now regretting. If he had taken that offer from the University of Sussex he would have been there, would have been able to spend every weekend with her and wouldn't have been left in the dark taking it all for granted.

He thought he knew the sacrifice he was making when he decided to stay in Canada, but he didn't, and now faced with the reality of it, he wants to undo it.

If he's not going to stay here, what's the point of finishing out the year? Yes, it would be a waste of all of his time, effort, and tuition, but so what? In the grand scheme of things, getting to have more time with his mum would be worth it.

If he stays like this he'll fail all his exams anyway, and it will all have been for nothing.

* * *

Robin's taking the news hard, and it's heartbreaking to watch. She can't imagine what him and his family are going through; it's awful. She wants to help somehow but doesn't know how, or if she even can, but she's determined to try. In therapy, she'd asked Tamara what she should do, had basically spent her whole session seeking her advice on how best to support Robin and ensuring she wasn't doing any harm. The hardest thing for her is the first thing Tamara told her: "don't try to fix the unfixable." She wants to fix, still does even though she can't. What she can do is be there, check in and offer to do things for him, visit and show her support. She's never spent this much time at his place before, but she feels this need to be with him now, and he doesn't mind, seems to appreciate the company. She's been over every day, makes or brings him food and stays for as long as he wants.

She's supposed to stick with the truth, Tamara's example being: "This hurts. I love you. I'm here." She'd ignored the I love you part of it, and thankfully Tamara hadn't pushed. She's not, she can't be, that's not what this is. She's worried about him, she cares about him, a lot, and he is in pain—she wants to help, just as anyone else would. Yes, she has feelings for him and that makes this more complicated, but outside of all of that, they are friends, and she won't let her feelings get in the way of her supporting her friend.

He is suffering and was hinting at dropping out, which she finds very concerning. He's not in his right mind right now, shouldn't be making that kind of decision, not when there's only a month left of school. She can't imagine his mom would want him to throw away his whole year like that. She tried to broach that with him, but he shut her down and hasn't mentioned it since.

But she doesn't think the ideas left him, she's just not pushing, though maybe she should be. She's well aware her tendency to avoid issues rather than confront them head-on has been particularly problematic this year and she's not about to make the same mistakes with Robin that she did with Mal.

She checked in this morning and Robin didn't want company, but Robin and John had their moot today, and she knows from John it really didn't go well, so she messages Robin to see if that's changed. When he says he'd like the company, she orders Thai to his place and heads over.

He doesn't look good, his eyes are sunken in, and he has this dull and lifeless look he's been sporting all week that makes her want to wrap her arms around him and somehow make it all better. She does hug him, after she's removed her coat. She squeezes him tightly, rising onto her toes, her head tipped up so she can kiss him softly. He's always been one for physical contact, but even more so now, and she's more than happy to provide that.

"I ordered Thai," she tells him and he nods, smiling slightly in a way that doesn't reach his eyes.

"When's it due?"

"In the next ten minutes."

He's holding her hand and uses it to lead them over to the table, sitting down without breaking the contact. She sits too as she asks, "How was your day?"

She's not at all surprised when the answer is, "Awful," and gives him a sympathetic look while squeezing his hand. He leans in as he explains, "I bombed my moot and embarrassed myself. I shouldn't have gone; it was pointless anyway."

"What do you mean pointless?"

"This whole thing is pointless. I should just go home, it's where I'm needed."

This is the kind of thing that's been concerning her. "What about exams?"

"Screw exams! Why write them when I don't give a shit about them? When all I want to do is go home and never come back."

"You've already come this far—"

"So? I only have limited time left with my mum. I don't want to waste it _here_."

"So what, you are going to drop out this late in the game?"

"I never said that."

That is true, he's always danced around it. "But that's what it sounds like…"

"Well, maybe I should…"

That's the moment there's a knock at the door, of all the times for their food to come, it had to be now, at the actual worst moment. Robin jumps up and grabs the door, clearly happy with the distraction. She sighs as she watches the exchange, knowing she's lost that opportunity, and unsure whether she should try and bring it back up. He'd been getting angry and she doesn't want to antagonize him. He has a short fuse right now, he stubbed his toe the other day and yelled more expletives than she's ever heard come out of his mouth, and was legitimately angry for a solid hour after. Emotionally now is not the time, and she knows it's not her life, not her call, but he'd be making a huge mistake if he dropped out now.

He sets the bag down on the table without a word and walks off toward the kitchen, for a drink she assumes.

She's clearly not going to make any headway, so she calls over, "Do you want to eat now?" and when he says _yes_ she starts unpacking the bag, setting out the three containers. One is for John who soon joins them, stopping to pat her back and say thank you before they start to eat together. It's funny, she never spent much time with John before all of this, had basically avoided him ever since the strip tease incident, but she has to admit she's enjoyed getting to know him better. She's surprisingly comfortable with him given that they haven't had many interactions outside of her humiliation, but they've found a camaraderie in supporting Robin, are united in their efforts to do whatever they can to help.

John is benefitting from her provisions of food, but she doesn't mind providing for both of them one bit. She loves to cook—though sometimes gets lazy and orders in, like tonight—while John and Robin's 'cooking' leaves much to be desired. She's surprised they haven't starved or gained a freshman fifteen with the things they consider to be proper meals.

It's nice to eat with people, she's always been quite solitary and doesn't have a problem with extended alone time, but having someone around especially when you aren't expected to be social or make conversation is really enjoyable. She hadn't realized how lonely she could get until she experienced the polar opposite.

They eat in relative silence, then John retires to his room to work.

She has work to do too, but doesn't want to leave just yet. She wants to somehow circle back and figure out whether or not he's actually planning to drop out. She can't imagine he'd make such a major decision right now, but he's not himself and she can't be sure.

"You want company?" she asks, and he shrugs, indicating that it's up to her.

She decides to stay, joining him on the couch, and accepts his offer of wine when he gets up to get himself a drink.

They watch a full episode of _Friends_ before she gets the courage to bring it back up.

"Did you mean it? What you said before about dropping out…"

He sighs and pauses for so long she thinks he isn't going to answer. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture. You don't know what this is like."

She clasps his hand, nodding as she acknowledges, "You are right, I don't, but I can't imagine your mother would want—"

He shrugs off her hand, recoiling. "No! _Do not_ go there."

His violent reaction shocks her. She'd anticipated he might be upset with her, but not to this degree. She gently tells him, "I'm sorry," not knowing what else to say and not wanting to make things worse.

He straightens up with a tension in his body that wasn't there before. His tone is cold when he suggests, "I think you should go, I'm not feeling up for company any more."

That hurts, but it's not entirely unexpected, and she's not going to fight him on this. "Okay, I'll go."

She's slightly reassured when he gets up and follows her to the door, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulls her in for a soft peck in goodbye. She melts into him, steals another kiss then one more, before she reluctantly leaves his arms and heads home.

She replays their interaction all through her walk home. His intense reaction to her questioning has her feeling even more worried. She's really concerned that she may have just pushed him into making that decision. She should have just let it go.

Fuck. What is she supposed to do now? If he drops out because of this she will never be able to forgive herself. Clearly his mom would not be supportive of his decision and right now she's probably the only one who could talk him out of it. But would he even tell her before he did it? Or would he just do it and deal with the consequences later? She suspects it's the latter and she can't just sit back and do nothing, can she? His mom needs to know.

But she can't tell her, can she? That's crazy! They've never spoken—she can't just message her out of the blue. Or can she? No, that's… and it's not like she'd be able to find his mom's contact information anyway, so the point is moot. She should let it go, but now she's curious about that, if there is a way. A look at Robin's Facebook shows he has 'Margaret Locksley' listed as his mother. When Regina clicks on her profile, it's open, and she can see that Margaret posted the other day. She hits the little messenger button without thinking, and it's only once it's open she realizes what she's started.

She shouldn't do this, he'll be so angry at her for interfering. It's not her place, she needs to let it go.

She closes the app and tells herself not to get involved, but her mind keeps flitting back to Mal and the consequences of her inaction there. She knows that sometimes being a good friend is getting involved, doing the hard thing that the person may hate you for because it's the right thing to do. She's not at all sure this is the right thing to do, but she opens the app again anyway.

Maybe meddling in it is what got her into trouble in the first place, but she's already come this far. With shaky fingers, she starts the message: _Hi, I'm Regina, a friend of Robin's..._

* * *

She comes back with John after a Torts class Robin didn't attend. John had assured her it was fine after Robin didn't answer her message, telling her to just come over anyway. She's not so sure it's a good idea, she was messaging with Robin's mom earlier in the morning and Margaret had thanked her profusely and said she was going to take care of it. She doesn't know if she has yet or not, but she knows Robin is going to be pissed at her for it once he knows.

John only knows about the tension last night, she hadn't told him what else she did, and maybe if she had then he'd have a different tune. Though, it's also quite possible Margaret hasn't talked to Robin yet, and she can tell him what she did herself. She probably should have told him after she did it, but he was already annoyed and she hadn't wanted to make it worse. She really doesn't know what would have been best, has never inferred like this in her life—and though she'd told herself she's prepared for the consequences, she's afraid of them.

Robin's in his room when they get there. She wonders if he's napping and that's why he didn't answer as John knocks on the door and says, "Regina's here," before going to his room and shutting the door.

She hears Robin get up, and when he opens the door, he is glowering at her. Well, that answers that, he definitely knows. Shit, this was a mistake, she should have just gone home.

She tries to pre-empt it, but it's useless. "Robin, I—"

"Save it! I don't know what you think gave you the right to do that, but it was way out of line."

"I'm sorry—"

"I said I don't want to hear it!"

He's madder than she's ever seen him, sounds even more pissed than that time he called her after he and John got into it.

"Okay," is all she says, because what else can she?

"You can leave now."

"I… wait, can't we talk about this? I'm sorry…"

"I don't want to talk to _you_ , not ever again. You can't be trusted—" Fuck that hurts, but she doesn't let it show on her face, drawing on her many experiences with her mother "—I want _nothing_ to do with you."

She lets out a shaky gasp then, unable to keep her face from falling. She wants to cry, wishes like hell she could go back and change things, "I did what I thought was right; I'm sorry."

"You don't have any right to meddle in my life like that, we aren't together—" that hurts far more than it should considering it's the reality. He digs the knife in even deeper as he elaborates, "—This was just fun, and now you've sucked all that away by going behind my back. I can't believe you would do this."

She doesn't know what to say, opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, then he says two words that kill her, "Goodbye, Regina," before he slams his door shut.

She stands frozen for a second, then starts to make her way out of his place. He didn't mean it, he couldn't have, he's just upset, is lashing out, this isn't over, it can't be.

"Regina, wait," John calls as she's striding out the door. She ignores him because she's about three seconds from crying, and if he asks her 'are you okay?' she will break down. He catches up to her though, his larger form giving him the advantage of much longer strides.

He puts a hand on her arm to stop her as he tells her, "Hey, I'm not here to yell at you, I just wanted to say that's not cool what he said. I don't know what you did, but he's just upset right now and used you as a punching bag, he didn't mean it."

"I did deserve it, I went behind his back to his mom. I told her he was going to drop out—"

"He was going to drop out?" John asks incredulously and shit, look at her making the same mistake all over again, she should have just kept her mouth shut. "No, you absolutely did the right thing, Margaret will never allow that. She'd probably kill him if he went through with it. You did the right thing telling her."

That subtly reassures her, but she still feels like shit. Part of that is because some of what Robin said wasn't uncalled for, they aren't together and she's been acting like they are, which needs to stop. He's made it clear he doesn't feel the same way she does, and she should just let them end this way, to spare herself more hurt down the line, but she knows she'd come crawling right back if he asked, wants nothing more than to throw herself at him and beg him to forgive her.

"I just… I need to get home, I have stuff I need to do," she looks at John and musters the best smile she can under the circumstances. "Thank you for this. I appreciate it, I really do."

"He's going to come around, I know he will. And when he does he's going to feel like shit about what he said. Just try not to dwell on it, okay? Margaret will tear him a new one when I tell her—"

"No, don't!" she's shaking her head vehemently as she insists, "Don't tell her, please. It's fine, seriously."

"It's not fine, but okay, I won't."

"Thank you," she breathes and he releases her arm, bidding her goodbye before heading back into their apartment.

She doesn't share John's optimism, but she hopes to god he's right and this will blow over soon.

* * *

He's fucking pissed. He cannot believe Regina did that, cannot believe John had the nerve to side with her and cannot believe he's waiting for his mum to call back and ream him out over something she shouldn't even know about in the first place.

He feels absolutely betrayed, by Regina, by his mum for trying to control him when he's only trying to make the most of the time they have left, by his parents for not telling him when they knew and robbing him of three months, and by the universe for letting this happen. All of that betrayal compounded turned him into a powder keg and he exploded all over Regina. He was mean and nasty, he can admit that, and some of it wasn't even true. What was he seeking to accomplish with that _we aren't together_ comment, anyway? Before all of this, that's what he wanted, but he was just so mad and he wanted to hurt her, which mission accomplished, but he sure as fuck doesn't feel any better, he feels worse. He wasn't fair, he knows that, but life isn't fucking fair, nothing about this is fair.

His phone rings and he knows it's his mum without looking, picks it up resignedly as he waits to get scolded. She'd left him a voicemail while he was napping, telling him exactly how stupid she thought him even considering dropping out was, then told him she'd call after dinner to discuss, which is apparently now.

"Hi, Mum," he starts warily, too exhausted for another fight.

"What in god's name were you thinking? You have not even a month left of school. I'm not letting you do something that foolish."

His anger flares again, "That's not really your call."

"I am still your mother, so watch your tone."

He shouldn't say this but, "Yeah, well, for how long, huh?"

"Okay, you know what? I'm done humouring you. You are going to listen to me very carefully, young man. Do you understand?"

Her tone immediately transports him to getting in trouble as a kid. He's twenty-four, but he feels himself cower a little and sighs, "Yes."

"Sweetheart, I love you, you know I do, more than anything. I want you to feel things, I want you to process this in time and in your own way, but you are scaring me and your friends. So let's get a few things straight: I am not dead. I am also not dying in the near future. Yes, I have a horrible, scary illness that's going to change things, but my life isn't over, it's far from it. Your life certainly isn't. I could live for another twenty years, or I could get in a car accident and die tomorrow without ever experiencing true dementia. Yes, that part is scary, it terrifies the hell out of me, and it's okay to be upset and to grieve over that. But I will not let you throw your life away over this."

She takes a breath, pausing as he takes in her words. A part of him knows she's right, but a larger one wants to yell and scream about how unfair it all is. She has had much more time to adjust to this, but he can't ever imagine feeling as zen as she seems to be about this.

"I'm glad you are letting it all out, that you aren't bottling it up, but this has got to stop. I'm still going to work, and am still doing everything I did before. I have good days and bad days, scary moments where my brain messes up and I get stuck, but I'm learning to deal with them, and I can deal with them."

"You shouldn't have to deal with them, though."

She sighs, "Perhaps, but this is the reality now. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, and you have every right to be pissed at me for that, but do not throw your life away."

"What's the point though? I want to be with you while you still have time."

Robin Todd Locksley—" Shit, he just got middle named, this is not going to be good. "—what did I say about the near future? You finish school in a month, I will still be the same me. I know I am only going to get worse, but don't act like I'm already there, it's insulting."

"I…"

"Sweetheart, I am fine for now, I am in stage four. I'm going to send you some research I've done, the resources I've found. For me at least, it helps me to understand the disease, so I know what to expect. Right now I have mild symptoms, let me prove it."

He's shaking his head though realizes she can't see it and says, "You don't need to do that."

But she starts anyway, "You were born on September 8, 1993 at 4:27 am. You crawled for the first time at four and half months old and scared the crap out of me, you were walking at nine months and running shortly after, giving me countless heart attacks. Your first word was more, when you were five you wanted to be a mad scientist and made it clear the mad was a key part of that. You got into trouble in your teen years, but you have turned it around and have wanted to be a lawyer ever since you got into trouble and Tuck Friar represented you, showing you what a lawyer could do. You have worked so hard for this and I will not let you throw that away. Your flight leaves in thirty-two days, and I will be the exact same when you get here, I promise you. So go enjoy your last events, then study hard and make me proud. Can you do that for me?"

He swallows heavily, emotion clogging his throat, but manages a, "I can do that for you."

"Good, that's my boy. I love you so so much. We're going to get through this, together. When you get here next month you'll see."

"I love you too, Mum."

He can practically hear her smile as she says, "I'm going to bed, you go get your butt in gear, okay?"

"I will, I promise."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Mum."

He doesn't particularly want to get his shit together, but she's asked it of him, and he won't break that promise, so starting tomorrow he's going back to class. He feels better having talked to her. As his phone dings with a message of links, he opens the first one cautiously. He hadn't done any research past the first google result of Alzheimer's, which he'd barely started before he had to stop because it felt like the walls were closing in. But that was a week ago, and she's said this will help, so he opens them, hoping she's right.

She was right that he needs to snap out of this, he can't keep this up, it's not healthy and it's not helping.

Tomorrow he will go to class, then he will take a nap or lay around watching TV or maybe even do work. What he is not going to do is sit around feeling sorry for himself and angry at the world, he's been doing that for a week, time to change things up. He'll watch funny videos or play with the cat or joke around with his parents, whatever is necessary to pull him out if he starts to go back into the funk. He can do that.

Saturday is the law school's formal and he has a ticket he was planning on letting go to waste, but he'll go, she would like that. He will dress up, hang out with his friends, maybe have too much to drink and try his hardest to enjoy himself.

He has a plan now, he just has to do it. For tonight, he's going to read the things his mum sent him, and if they make him more upset, that's okay, he has tonight to be upset about it, then he's letting it go and trying to move on.

* * *

It's the last event before she hunkers down and gets into exam mode. She didn't want to come after what happened with Robin on Thursday, but he was in class on Friday and said he hoped he see her there. He'd attempted to apologize, but she waved it off, she wasn't mad at him for lashing out at her, it was a natural response. She didn't need an apology, just to know that they were good, which they are.

With everything that had been going on she never got a dress and ended up on an impromptu shopping trip with Mal, who also needed one—which wasn't shocking because she always leaves things to the last minute. They were accompanied by Zelena and Kathryn, who needed shoes and accessories respectively. She ended up buying Z a dress though, after she watched her longingly eye this gold, strapless dress that came to her knees. She made her try it on, and when Z came out of the fitting room in it, she knew she had to get it for her. The sequins on it made it sparkle under the lights, and Z's face lit up when she saw herself in the mirror. She can't do much about her sister's financial situation, but she can spoil her with the abundance of funds she's been provided with that Z is unfairly denied.

Mal had ended up with a tight, knee-length dress, in navy blue with a floral lace overlay, quarter length sleeves, but a deep v neckline that accentuated her chest. Regina went the most formal (it is called formal, after all) and picked up a dress with a flowy, long royal blue skirt that billowed out, which gave her room to move in it. It had a beige top with large crystals adorning it, and the back was open, the top's material criss-crossing just above her waist. She had given up on finding something special, had resigned herself to a simple black dress she'd found in another store that was fine but didn't do anything for her when they tried one last place.

She's so happy they did because she looks incredible, she loves this dress. Robin had said he wanted to enjoy the night—that he's going to drink, flirt and try his hardest to stay in a good mindset—and she knows he will enjoy her in this.

He seems to be doing better. He told her he had a talk with his mom, and whatever she said, it's helped immensely. True to his word, he has been flirty; they've been trading increasingly racy texts as she gets ready that make it clear they are leaving together. She's eating it up, happy to see him in such high spirits after how down he's been. She knows it's possible he's faking it, but if so, he's doing it extremely well.

All the girls are getting ready at her place, and there are supplies strewn across her living room. Mal curls Kathryn's hair, while Regina does her own makeup, and Zelena sips the champagne Regina bought for this occasion.

It's going to be a good night, and she's super excited to see Robin in a tux. His mentioning he was wearing one was what had led them into a less than wholesome text conversation. She's already feeling that subtle anticipatory excitement coursing through her veins. She's not thinking about anything, not letting herself stress out about her feelings, Robin's or school. It's a night off from all of her stresses, and she's ready to indulge in every way.

She's two glasses in and feeling warm and tipsy from the combination of alcohol and anticipation when everyone is ready. They still have twenty minutes until they have to leave so they fill that time taking photos, good ones at first, then silly ones they all laugh over.

She's lucky to have this, all of this, she knows herself, knows without her friends and Robin she could have really isolated herself, made herself miserable by not taking days like this. She tells the girls as much, and it's far more sappy than she ever is, so she's not at all surprised when they (mostly Mal) start making fun of her for it.

The teasing lasts all the way through the cab ride to the venue, through coat check and into the actual room, finally ending when they saddle up at the bar to get drinks. Once they have their drinks—hers is a red wine that is so cheap tasting she's not sure she'll be able to stomach more than one—they find themselves a table.

Each table seats ten and they've already agreed to sit with Robin's crew. She anxiously awaits their arrival, knows from Robin that the guys got caught up in a drinking game, making them late. She shouldn't be watching the door, but she is, so she doesn't miss when he comes in.

Good god he looks fantastic, she's fairly certain her heart stops at the sight, and she can feel her cheeks heat from the intensity of her reaction, but damn she doesn't know that she's ever been more attracted to him than in this moment. He looks absolutely delicious in his crisp, white shirt and black tux and checkered bow tie. She's never been one for bow ties before, but Robin looks fucking hot in his, and she has the sudden image of her undoing it, and his shirt, his fly, of sinking to her knees, slipping his cock out and sucking him off with him still in the suit, or of him using that bow tie to bind her hands together and god…

She cannot stop staring, even when Mal comments, "I think we've lost her, earth to Regina, do you read me?"

It's only when Mal waves her hand in front of Regina's face that she reluctantly stops checking Robin out so she can scold her. "It's called I was ignoring you."

Mal rolls her eyes, "You looked like you were about five seconds from stripping him down and having your way with him right—"

"Mal!" she hisses.

"I mean he does clean up nice, but I was counting on a nice night with my friends not you off in lalaland dreaming of his dick."

"Jesus, Mal." Okay, yes, she was staring, and yes, she's very much looking forward to getting that suit off of him later, but that crude commentary wasn't necessary.

"I just tell it how it is."

She shakes her head knowing it's not worth battling over and just takes a sip of her drink, grimacing after she takes too big of a sip of the swill. She should just get a different glass, why is she suffering through this one? A glance at the bar shows the guys heading over and isn't that perfect?

"I can't drink this," she announces as she gets up.

She only half hears Zelena's, "My sister: the princess," as she walks away.

Robin's back is to her as she approaches, and maybe it's wrong to do, given their situation, but she can't resist wrapping her arms around his waist and whispering, "Hello, handsome," in his ear, grateful for the extra inches her heels provide.

He's turning as he tells her, "Hello, lo…" but his words stick when he sees her, his eyes raking over her body, taking her in in a way that sends a flash of heat through her.

"Holy christ, you're gorgeous," he breathes, and her stupid heart trips over itself. She knew he was going to find her attractive, she knows she looks damn good, but he just wants to fuck her, that's all, he made that clear, so she should not be getting all warm and tingly from the compliment.

"You look damn good yourself," she tells him as she checks him out yet again. He needs to dress like this every day, she'd never get anything done but hell it would be worth it.

He smirks knowingly, "You like it?"

She nods, and he steps closer, right up in her space as his lips find her ear and he whispers, "Well, perhaps I should leave it on when I tie you down tonight…"

She shivers, jesus fucking christ he is going to kill her tonight if he keeps up like that. She's already warm and damp, and she knows how much he can work her up with just his words. She won't survive it if he's going to be like that all night.

He knows what he's done to her, she can see it in his eyes, and wow what a change. He really does seem like his old self. She knows whatever his mom said to him wasn't a magic fix, that he's still hurting and dealing with that, but it almost seems like it was.

When the bartender asks what he can get them, Robin orders a beer and she's happy to find out the bar has another red wine.

Robin tries to pay for both but she nudges him out of the way, holding out her cash as the bartender laughs at them.

"Take it," she commands him, and Robin scowls when he takes it from her hand.

"I was going to get that," Robin complains.

"Too bad."

He laughs at her smug satisfaction, "You know I can just get the next one."

She chuckles, and tells him, "We'll see."

She manages to snag the next round too, then it's time for dinner, and there's wine on the table—that gross red, but the white is passable.

He's touchy feely throughout dinner, his hand on her leg, the small of her back, grasping hers, brushing her hair away from her face, an assortment of soft, intimate touches that she's trying really hard not to ascribe meaning to.

Their group takes photos between dinner and dessert, using the time where most people are finishing up or hitting the bar to find a spot along the window, getting what they can of the gorgeous river view in the photos. She's in a lot of pictures, with various people, but the one she loves most of all is of her and Robin, his arm around her shoulder, hers tucked around his waist. They fit together so well and they look like a couple, look like they came together, like the royal blue checks in his bowtie were intentional to match her, rather than a coincidence. She blames her bout of sappiness from earlier for her recurring thoughts of what will never be, and tells herself to snap out of it and enjoy what they do have, a great friendship and incredible sex.

When they all get back to the table after their photos, dessert is already there. She watches as Robin pauses after his first bite and starts to stare off into space, a frown starting to form. She sees the moment he catches himself, how he subtly shakes it off and returns to his dessert. She keeps her eye on him after that, and after he's finished, he starts to fade again.

"Are you okay?" she asks, knowing that deep down the answer is no, but that he's really trying to keep himself from the deep grief that's been surrounding him.

He blinks, then nods, "Yeah, um, yeah."

He's not though, his eyes have lost some of the sparkle they had gotten back, he's tenser than he's been all night, and the smile he's giving her is forced. "You don't seem it… is there anything I can do?"

He smiles at her more genuinely this time, "What you are doing is good. I just need a distraction when I start to…"

She's not sure at all that it's the right move but she places her hand midthigh and squeezes as she raises her eyebrows and questions innocently, "What kind of distraction?"

He laughs heartily at that, some of the tension bleeding out of him as he does. He grabs her hand, squeezes it in his, and jokingly raises it even higher up his leg.

"Mr. Locksley, whatever are you doing?"

He fakes innocence, "Nothing."

She smirks, as she tells him, "Sure," and stands up, dragging him toward the dance floor where she knows she can distract him well.

It starts out rather innocently, dancing playfully, him spinning her around, but when she turns and shimmies her ass toward him, he pulls her in, his hands resting on her waist as she grinds on him, loving the feel of his body against hers. His hands start to roam, nowhere inappropriate but enough to have her riling back up. A problem he only adds to when he rests his head on her shoulder, breathing onto the sensitive skin of her neck.

God, she wants him, wants to turn around, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless. But that's not what they do, at least not in public, and she's not one for public displays of affection even in dim lighting of the dance floor.

She frees herself from his embrace to freshen up, heading to the stairs, toward the private little bathroom she discovered accidentally after misunderstanding Mal's directions to the ladies' room earlier.

She doesn't realize Robin has followed her until he asks, "Where are you going?" as she opens the stairwell door.

She laughs, "There's a private stall down there."

His eyebrows raise, "Private," and she laughs again as she tells him, "Down boy," because that is not happening.

He follows her into the stairwell and she shakes her head at him, "Don't get any ideas, that's not happening."

"I never suggested it."

"You implied. And why else would you be following me?"

"For this," he says and closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers and kissing her passionately. His hands grope her ass as hers wrap around his neck, tangling in his hair, as mouths and tongues meet over and over.

It's just supposed to be making out, a few kisses to get it out of their system but when he goes to pull away, she pulls him back by the lapels of his jacket and hums encouragingly when his lips find her neck.

She's starting to slicken up, and she can feel him half hard against her. She's obviously lost her goddamn mind but all she can think about is dragging him downstairs, how hot it would be to do it here, under everyone's noses. How amazing it would feel to release the tension that's been percolating between them. She's never done anything like that, but the idea excites her, and every new thing she's tried with Robin has been a resounding success.

She's almost afraid to voice it, thinks for a second that he might take offence to it, before she reminds herself that he's Robin and even if something she suggested disgusted him he'd never let it show. She nibbles along his jawline, lips tracing over the bits of exposed skin on his neck, careful not to get lipstick on his collar. He groans and bucks his hips into her as she nips under his chin and it sends a shiver down her, has her wanting him even more.

When he breathes, "Fuck, you gotta stop that," her mind is made up.

She pulls away so she can look him in the eye when she tells him, "We don't have to stop if you come with me."

He inhales sharply, his eyes widening as if he can't believe what she's suggesting (which is fair given how she reacted earlier), then nods eagerly.

They both rush down the stairs, him stopping her at the bottom to kiss her eagerly. He moans softly into the kiss and god, she needs him.

She manages to get them into the room between kisses, Robin flipping the lock before turning toward her hungrily. For the first time she regrets her dress, it's not at all appropriate for a bathroom quickie, Robin seeming to realize the same as his hands roam her back and start to bunch up her skirt, as she undoes his pants. Once his fly is undone, his erection pops out and he's so hard it makes her clench. Fuck, she did not think out the logistics of this, but they have to make it work somehow because she needs him. She pushes his pants and boxers down, then strokes over him, delighting in the way it makes him close his eyes and suck in a breath.

"Love, hold your skirt up for me," he commands, and she gasps as she does what he says.

His hand trails up her thigh, the sensitive skin coming alight under his teasing caress. He slides her panties down and moans, "God, you're wet," and yes, she is, the lewdness of what they are doing amping everything up. What is he waiting for?

He kisses her hard, making her moan when his fingers flick over her sensitive clit before sinking into her. They go in easy and he gives her a few testing thrusts that have her crying out.

It's good, but it's not what she wants.

"I want you inside me," she breathes between kisses and his answering groan goes right between her thighs.

She fights the urge to whimper when he pulls his fingers from her, knowing it's so he can give her what they need.

Then he freezes, his face falling as he rushes out, "I don't, fuck, I didn't think, I don't have anything…"

Oh, neither does she, but she's protected and she needs him. "Just pull out, I'll finish you with my mouth."

"Oh _fuck,_ yes."

She leans herself against the wall for leverage, and he steps in, lifting her one leg, which she wraps around him as he starts to sink into her. He feels amazing, and she moans as he pushes all the way in, pausing in deep to kiss her hotly. God, this whole thing is so erotic, he feels so good, and she probably shouldn't moan as loud as she does when he starts to thrust, but fuck it, they are on another floor, and if she's really honest with herself, the thought of someone hearing them only makes her hotter.

He fucks her just like that for a few minutes and it's good, so good, and he's grinding his pelvis into her as best he can to get friction on her clit, but it's not quite enough. It will build and build her up, but she needs more to topple over. His breath is growing ragged against her skin, and she thinks he might be close so she tries to angle her hips differently, but it accomplishes nothing, and she wants, she _needs,_ to come, is burning for it, his every thrust making the sweet ache grow. She wants to come on him, but that's not going to happen, not like this. She knows he'll finish her some other way, that she can come on his cock later, but it's hard to imagine not coming this way when he's buried inside her, grunting as his pleasure builds. He looks so fucking hot, his jacket, shirt and bow ties still on, his pants at his ankles.

He's not blind to her predicament, sighing as he asks, "This isn't enough for you, is it?"

She feels bad admitting it's not, more so when he pulls out of her. She didn't want him to stop.

"Turn around, love," he husks, "so I can rub your clit."

And oh, that's much better. She goes to plant herself against the wall but Robin urges her toward the sink, and she realizes why when she looks straight ahead into the mirror, after gathering her dress again, watching his face as he sinks back into her with a throaty moan. His one hand stays firmly planted on her hip, but the other comes around her front, blindly searching out her clit as he pushes right against her g-spot in a way that is fucking perfect. Christ, this is good.

She gasps and jerks when his fingers find her clit and start up firm circles against the sensitive knot.

"This better?" he pants out, and she nods as pleasure thrums inside her.

She locks eyes with him in the mirror and it only serves to make this all hotter. She wishes the front of her skirt wasn't down, that she could see him pumping in and out of her, but this is good, it's fantastic.

"God, yeah, like that," she moans as he firms up his thrusts, applying even more pressure to her g-spot in a way that ramps everything up, has tension coiling tighter in her gut.

"Is that what you need?" he asks, and she nods, clenching on him at a particularly strong surge of sensation, as he continues, "Oh fuck, that's… god, I love you."

She registers the words meaning just as he freezes up.

She whimpers at the sudden slowdown and he stutters out, "Uh, I mean I love this."

She doesn't quite know what to do, but he's slowed down, and she was so damn close, can get it back with a bit more, so she urges, "Fuck me harder," gasping when he does.

He firms up his circles on her clit and she feels everything growing tight, her middle tremouring as she grows closer. She takes a look at his face in the mirror again, sees how he's biting at his cheek, holding back for her; it's filthy, what they are doing, but she loves it.

"God, close," she breathes as another hot wave surges through her, driving her up more, making her even closer.

"Thank christ," he pants. "Me too. Let go for me, love. Want to feel you come hard on me, want to see your face as you spill over. I know you want it, come for me, come under everyone's nose."

That should not be so hot, but it is. She feels everything pull together, she tenses as the sensation rises, throwing her head back and crying out as it swamps her. It's intense, almost too much, pleasure consuming her as the pressure against her g-spot and her clit floods her with bliss that seems unending. Just when she thinks she can't take it anymore, the wave crests and she sucks in a breath as her heart pounds.

Robin's hand leaves her clit, his thrusts slowing as he grunts. She opens her eyes to see him biting down on his lip, clearly right there, desperately trying to hold back for her. She knows what she suggested, but she needs to catch her breath, and she wants to see him come, wants to watch him.

"Robin, come inside me," she urges, and he moans, managing to gasps out an 'are you sure?'

There are reasons they don't do this, but right now she doesn't care.

"Yes, I want you to," she tells him, and this time he doesn't fight her, just starts thrusting quickly into her like he was before. She watches as he tenses, his face screwing up before he loosens, spilling into her with a relieved cry mere seconds later. She doesn't know that she's ever intentionally watched him come, she usually keeps her eyes closed during sex, which is a shame because he looks so hot when he lets go.

"Christ," he breathes into her skin a moment later, "that was…"

"Yeah."

She feels him dribbling down her leg as he pulls out, turning her so they can trade slow lazy kisses. She doesn't fuck without a condom unless there's exclusivity, that was reckless and while she's sure Robin wouldn't have done it if he had something, it can't happen again unless it's just them. She hasn't slept with anyone other than him since they started and she's pretty sure it's the same for him, but that's something she'd need to have confirmed if they are going to keep doing this.

They've been down here for too long, so she starts to clean up as best she can before putting her underwear back on while he stumbles pulling his pants back up. She looks in the mirror to assess the damage, but other than the flush in her cheeks, she looks remarkably presentable for what just occurred. She grabs for her lipstick which is long gone, stopping at Robin's urging so he can give her a few soft kisses. She wipes all the lipstick off of his face, then reapplies. Robin's pants are a bit wrinkled from being on the floor, but nothing that would be noticeable unless you were really looking.

She can't believe they just did that... that she suggested it.

He pauses at the door when they are ready to leave, "About what I said—"

She'd almost forgotten, her brain too consumed with the pleasure that came after. She doesn't want to have this conversation, not now. "Don't worry, I know it was just the sex. Now let's go, we've been down here way too long not to rouse suspicion."

As it turns out they didn't, their friends at the table somehow oblivious to the fact that they hadn't been on the dancefloor the whole time. They get another drink, another round she manages to pay for to Robin's annoyance—he hasn't managed to get one all night and she's determined to keep it that way. From the bar they move back to their table sitting down with Killian, John and Kathryn, taking a quick break before getting back out on the dancefloor.

It's an all around good night, she dances with her girlfriends and some of the other guys, returning to Robin more often than not. She and Robin leave the afterparty early, and as they cab home he shares that this night, all of it, was exactly what he needed. He smirks when she reminds him it's not over yet, kissing her until their cab driver yells at him. Maybe they aren't together, and never will be, but he still always wants to go home with her, not anyone else, and for now, that's enough.

* * *

 **That last bit is based on an awesome prompt I received that I said I wanted to put in the story: Smutty prompt - Win, lose, law: Regina's reaction after Robin slips an "I love you" in the throes of passion.** **Thanks to whoever sent it because I had a great time with it.  
Hoping to update more frequently from now on, just bear with me :)**


	15. March V

On Monday, he makes himself go to the gym after class. He hasn't been in ages, and as he pushes through his cardio workout with lungs burning and sweat dripping, he finds that pushing himself this way is oddly therapeutic. He has no room in his mind for anything but trying to breathe and keep his feet moving. It's the first time in a long time his mind has gone entirely blank, and he loves it. He runs hard for as long as he can until he's totally exhausted, so much so that he calls John to pick him up.

Though he's utterly spent, he feels good, today is now a good day. It had started off rough, he'd awoken from a nightmare of his mum forgetting who he was and had to call her on her way to work because he needed to hear her voice. He's so needy right now, and he hates it, she has enough to worry about without needing to comfort him, and yet…

He thinks it will be better once he's home, that part of the reason he's having such a hard time with this is the fact that he hasn't seen her. He needs to hug it out, needs to snuggle up in his mum's arms like he's six and scraped his knee. What he really needs is for this not to be happening, but that isn't an option, so he has to learn to live with it like she has. It's still so hard to accept, and he keeps wishing he would wake up and have it all be a bad dream, or they'll realize it was all a mistake and she's fine, which is never going to happen, but he can't stop the fruitless wishes.

The news was devastating, but he's coping, as best he can, and he is so grateful for his friends and all they've been doing for him. John and Regina especially have gone above and beyond for him, and best of all, neither expects him to be over it by now or tries to make it better. He's gotten a lot of at least's from other people: at least she's okay now and at least she's not dead, coupled with stupid advice and analogies that make him want to rip his hair out and roll his eyes even though he knows people are well-meaning and just trying to help.

But none of that stuff helps, and in some ways it makes him feel worse, like he's not handling this well—he's not, he knows that, but he doesn't need to add guilt into the vortex of negative emotions he's trying to keep at bay.

John and Regina aren't like that, they check in but there's no pressure associated with it, he feels like he can be a mess around them and they won't judge, will just offer a sympathetic ear or distraction if that's what he wants. He has good days and bad days and they are with him for both. They've shown him a level of support he's never experienced before, one he's not sure he deserves, at least not from Regina after his outburst last week. He was grateful at the time when she waved off his apology because it was one less thing to deal with, and he was a bit overwhelmed with getting back to classes and dealing with everyone's sympathy. But now that he's had a bit of time, he knows he needs to tell her just how much he didn't mean it, and ideally the thing he did mean, that he loves her, but he can't handle heartbreak on top of everything else right now if he's been reading this wrong all along. He's far too fragile to deal with any fallout, and her reaction to his slip up made it clear she's not ready. With everything that's going on, it's best to just leave it for now. He'll watch himself, will be sure not to spill his feelings again until things have slowed down.

He was certain she felt the same, she's shown him she feels at least something for him over the course of this, but there is that slight chance it's only friendship. He wouldn't even be humouring that except for what happened on Saturday.

That hook up in the bathroom was easily one of the hottest sexual encounters of his life, probably would be the hottest if he hadn't broken the moment by inadvertently admitting his feelings. He's still kicking himself for it. He really hadn't meant to say it, it just slipped out, and as soon as he heard the words and saw her face, he knew what a colossal mistake it was. That's the story of his life with Regina lately; he just keeps screwing up, in two polar opposite directions.

He tried to talk out the I love you with her right after, but she'd refused, and when he tried to bring it back up again when they got back to her place, she started talking about how hot it was seeing him come in the mirror as she climbed onto his lap, and well, he was utterly lost to her after that.

So lost to her that he missed a perfect opportunity to clarify that he wants to be with her, that he didn't mean a word of his idiotic _we aren't together_ comment. They are together, in some fashion anyway, and maybe she doesn't want to admit that but it's true. There has been progress in that arena, they are exclusive now, which happened in probably the worst possible, the least romantic way, for sure. They'd foregone the condom in the bathroom and once they were back at her place, after he ate her out and was desperate for her, he asked if they could again, told her he wanted to really feel her. Looking back, he could not have had a better chance to tell her he didn't mean his comment, but he was too damn turned on to think clearly. It wasn't entirely his fault, her hand was stroking his cock firmly, making him go a bit brainless as she said she would only fuck him without a condom if they were exclusive.

It was not hard at all for him to agree to exclusivity, he's been doing it regardless since they started this, can't imagine sleeping with anyone but her, wouldn't want to. As soon as he said he wanted that, she sunk down onto his cock and rode him at a hard and fast pace that had him seeing stars. There was no way he was stopping that to talk. He told himself he'd bring it up after, but the time they finished he was utterly spent and drifted off to sleep.

The morning had brought a slow, lazy bout of morning sex that had him biting back those three words again, the ones he is _not_ going to say during sex again until he's said them for real, in a better moment, where she can't brush them off. It needs to be good when he tells her, he hasn't been able to show off his romantic side, hasn't treated her the way he should have and he needs to make it up with how he makes that declaration.

He's fucked up a lot of this, but he's not going to fuck up that.

* * *

She cancels her therapy session on Tuesday. She slept terribly the night before, woke up cranky and overtired, with a stupid cough and slight headache that only grew as the day went on.

She had meant to make a lasagna after her session, to bring it over to Robin and John's so they'd have something available for dinners. It's stupid, but feeding them is one of the only things she's been able to do that actually seems to help. But her head is fucking killing her now, the Advil she took doesn't seem to be making a difference, so she pops a Tylenol in, hoping it will help.

It's only six o'clock, but she's half contemplating going to bed. It's just, she hasn't seen or talked to Robin outside of class today, and since he told her the news, she's talked to him every single day—usually multiple times a day—and has been over at his place almost as much.

He's probably fine, may even be relieved not to hear from her, but she doesn't want him to think she's not there, or be suffering silently. She's in far too fucking deep, she should be able to go one day without checking in, but she can't.

She grabs for her phone and asks him how he's doing, debates on offering company but ultimately doesn't because her head is still pounding. While she's hoping the drugs will kick in, until they do, the thought of making the effort to go over to Robin and John's is just too much.

They chat back and forth for a bit, even though staring at her phone is making her headache worse, and he says he's been better but he's doing okay. She knows how to read between the lines and she aches for him, for the pain he's so clearly experiencing that no one can take away. She can't imagine what it's like for him, but she knows enough to know that that pain, the grief he's experiencing, is not going away any time soon.

She wants to do more, should have sucked it up and made the lasagna because he likes when she cooks for him, and it's an easy way to put a smile on his face. She still could, could get off of the couch and do it now, but man, is she ever exhausted. It's not going to happen today, she needs this stupid headache to go away so she can get some sleep, then she'll be good.

She'll make it tomorrow, in fact, she'll invite him over, will make him a nice dinner, have a nice, light night to take his mind off of it all.

When he tells her that's a great plan she smiles stupidly down at her phone, feeling ridiculously comforted and happy about words that really mean nothing. It's just like that damn I love you, she knows he didn't mean it, no one says that during sex and _means it_. She felt the way he tensed up, saw his face and how quickly he corrected it, but that hasn't stopped her from fantasizing about what if it were true, about if they were together for real, not just newly exclusive fuck buddies.

She can't believe she did that, they should have had a real talk about it, not a quick exchange seconds before sex. She should have just said yes, you can fuck me without, they'd already done it that night anyway, then later when they weren't in the throes they could have talked it out, with her explaining why she needs exclusivity if they are going to keep having unprotected sex.

It's not an unreasonable request, it's safer for both of them, but it's not one that should be made in those circumstances. If she didn't know Robin the way she does she wouldn't take any stock in his agreement for exclusivity given the circumstances, but he's Robin and she knows he wouldn't risk her sexual health like that. He's a man of his word, and when he commits to something, he does it, no matter what the circumstance.

She probably should give him the option to go back on it, considering she was not at all playing fair when she proposed it. She can admit to herself she knew he wasn't going to say no in that moment when she was stroking him, about to take him inside of her. As much as she wants them to be exclusive, she took advantage there and should make sure he is actually okay with the trade-off. She'll do that tomorrow, at some point before dinner is over, since if it goes how she expects they'll be fucking shortly thereafter.

God, sex with him is out of this world. She is damn lucky and she knows it, has never ever had a man so committed to her pleasure. She's half tempted to blame the sex for her stupid feelings, but it's more than that, it's him. He's incredible. She can't be judged for starting to fall for _him_ in a no feelings situation—he's actually the perfect guy and unreal in bed. She never stood a chance in the face of all that. How could anyone be with Robin and not start to fall for him?

He at least had her, she is _not_ the perfect girl, is so far from it that it's clear why he had to spell out for her that they aren't together. Just look at how she manipulated him into exclusivity. She's terrible; she hurts the people she cares about, she's better off this way where the only heart she can break is her own. She scarred the only man dumb enough to fall for her, and she doesn't want anyone else to feel the brunt of what her feelings lead to. She's not cut out to be with someone, not cut out for love, she needs to be in something casual where she has no chance of hurting the other person. She can't be trusted when there are other people's feelings involved.

So yes, she can fantasize about Robin meaning those words and love it, but she knows deep down that it's actually better this way, that it's actually better for both of them that he doesn't return her feelings. She can handle her own heartbreak—she _cannot_ handle hurting Robin, it would kill her. He's been through enough this year without the trainwreck that is falling for Regina Mills. He deserves better, so much better, and maybe he'll find it when he's away this summer. It will be good for him to have a break from her, to find someone good like him, capable of giving him everything. She's holding him back, and she should stop, but she's selfish and won't, not until he leaves. She'll set him free then, let him explore what's out there guilt free—it really is the least she can do.

* * *

He texted Regina when he left his place, and that she still hasn't responded by the time he's walking up gives him pause, but he's already here. It's not like her to not respond, but she knows he's coming, they planned this yesterday, and she's never forgotten their plans before—mind you there is a first time for everything. She'd been distracted all day in class, hadn't been engaged and participating like she normally does, and he didn't think anything of it then but now he's wondering what's up.

He gets his answer after ringing the doorbell twice. He normally just knocks and walks in, or she's watching for him and gets the door, but this time it's locked (not a good sign) so he waits.

When she opens the door she's wrapped in a blanket, her cheeks and nose reddened, pillow marks on her face as she stares at him bleary eyed—and shoot, he clearly woke her up and she's none to pleased about it.

It takes a second but then recognition dawns on her face and she's apologizing with a croaky voice, "Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't realize what time it was. I was just sitting on the couch, I didn't think I'd fall asleep."

She shivers, and though he should be going, he steps inside, letting the door shut as he tells her, "It's okay, do you need anything before I go?"

She frowns, and god she's pretty, even now clearly sick and in need of rest. "Why would you go?"

Maybe she wants him to stay? He's not averse to that at all, he's a pathetic mess when he's sick. He wouldn't want to subject anyone to that, but if she wants him to stick around and take care of her, he is more than happy to do that. "I mean I can stay, whatever you need, love. Have you eaten?"

She shakes her head, "I was going to make us lasagna."

"I can…" okay no, let's be real, he can't, "Who am I kidding, no, I can't, but I can order something."

Her nose scrunches and she's looking at him like he's making no sense, which maybe he isn't, "No, I can make it, just give me a minute, some coffee first, maybe…"

She starts to wander toward the living room, dropping the blanket over the back of the couch as she does.

"Regina, it's okay, you're sick, don't exert yourself. If you have something easy I can make it, or we'll order something."

She turns to face him, shivering slightly now that she's blanketless, "I'm not… I'm just groggy that's all, I don't nap, it's messed me up."

"You're shivering and you're flushed. And I bet," he says as he steps in, raising his palm to her hot forehead, "you have a fever."

She recoils from his touch, "Your hand is freezing."

"And you have a fever."

She shakes her head, "That's just the contrast. I'm fine."

He just looks at her; she's stubborn, he already knows that, but he can't believe this is what she's put her foot down on. She's clearly been sick all day, and denying it isn't going to help her get better.

"I'm fine, I don't get sick. It's nothing."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes because that is not going to help, but he can't keep the dry sarcasm out of his, "Well, there's a first time for everything."

She rolls her eyes at him, and as if she's so offended by what is the reality here. He wants to laugh because it's so absurd. She shivers yet again and good lord, he is not going to let her stubbornness get in the way of her getting better. "Would you go lay on the couch? Put your blanket back on."

"I don't need it," she says, then she's overcome by a coughing fit that makes him wince.

"The shivers suggest otherwise."

"Well, it's cold in here."

"All the more reason to get under the blanket then."

She glares at him, but does as he asks, sort of anyway, she doesn't lay down, she sits, but she wraps herself back in the blanket and that's good enough.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teases, utterly surprised when all she does is sneer at him. That's fine, he got his way, and he'll take every bit of her sass along the way if it means he can get her to rest.

He heads into the kitchen to see what she has and she tells him that there's a frozen pizza as he opens the cupboard to find exactly what he wanted: chicken soup. There's chamomile tea in the same cabinet and he grabs that as well, filling the kettle and flipping the switch before opening the soup.

He makes it in the microwave, something she's probably never done, but he's lazy and it works just as well. He throws some bread in the toaster and he ends up with a nice little meal in under five minutes.

He has to take two trips from the kitchen and ignores Regina's insistence that she can help. After they finish their suppers, he brings his hand back to her forehead, and sure enough, she is burning up (he knew it wasn't the contrast).

"You have a fever," he tells her, hoping that maybe this time she'll be more receptive.

"You don't know what you are talking about." He loves every headstrong bit of her, he really does but how is he supposed to get her to face the truth? He smiles when he realizes he can actually use her bullheadedness against her.

"Then prove it."

"Prove it _how_?"

"Show me you don't have a fever, you do have a thermometer, don't you?"

She narrows her eyes, and he knows he's got her because he saw it in her first aid kit when he gave himself a nasty papercut one night when they were studying.

She goes to get up and get it, but he stops her, "I'll get it."

She sighs out her annoyance at him but he pays it no mind. He's feeling almost smug as he returns with it, knowing he's about to be proven right, only to remember that that means she's sick and he shouldn't be celebrating that. And he isn't, just that she'll accept it soon, then they can get to work at making her feel better.

When the thermometer flashes 102.5 he raises his eyebrows, that's concerning. She's just under what's cause for concern (he thinks) and they need to watch that. If it gets any higher she'll need medical attention, which he's sure would be a picnic to get to her agree to.

She sinks into a couch a bit as she looks at the number then admits in a soft voice, "I feel like shit."

He rubs her forehead, pushing her hair back off of it as he asks, "What can I do?"

She snuggles up into him, "You're warm and comfy." If a cuddle is what she needs he can easily give her that, but first…

"Have you taken anything, love?"

She shakes her head then amends, "Just some Advil earlier to help with the headache."

She was fighting him over being sick when she had a headache, a cough and a high fever, only her. "Do you have Tylenol?"

She nods and this time allows him to go get it without a fight. He brings her a tall glass of water as well, offering tea that she declines. He goes to cuddle up with her and she pulls back, which he wasn't expecting.

"What's wrong?"

"I… I'm sick, I don't want to infect you, too. You should go."

He shakes his head and pulls her into his arms, "I'm good here, unless you really don't want me here."

She burrows her face into his chest, "No, this is nice, but just for a bit."

Just for a bit turns out to be a half an hour, her fighting off falling asleep until he says he's going to leave so she can nap. She protests that so he amends that plan, and instead decides to take her upstairs, after checking her temperature again. It's gone down slightly, but he's still a little worried. She's good now, she's accepted that she's sick and he knows she'll do what she can to take care of herself, but he wants to help, wants to know that she's okay, and be there in case she gets worse.

She's a little shaky as she stands and he wraps an arm around her waist to steady her, before deciding it would just be easier to pick her up. She's so tiny, he forgets that sometimes, but she weighs next to nothing, she's strong and so smart, her personality and demeanor make her seem bigger than she actually is.

She teases him that she's not a complete invalid, but is still holding on tight around his neck as he walks toward the stairs.

"Don't drop me," she warns, and he swears on his honour that he won't. He carries her all the way to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed, intending to go get her some water but she uses those strong arms to pull him down with her. She goes to kiss him, but pulls away at the last second. He gets why, but he can't resist pressing a soft peck to her lips. He gives another to her cheek, then her warm forehead, before extracting himself to get her some water.

She's half asleep already when he gets back, but she smiles at him, slurring, "Come 'ere," in this adorable way that has him going even softer for her. He settles in beside her, stroking her back and hair as she nods off to sleep, muttering a soft, "Stay with me," that has his belly warming with a surge of affection for her.

She murmurs something else he can't really hear, a thank you that he half convinces himself was a love you, even though he knows it's highly unlikely and even if it was she's not in the right state to mean it.

It doesn't matter what she said, she wants him here and he wants to be here, he'll do whatever he can to nurse her back to health. Maybe he can't tell her that he loves her but he can show her, and he's going to do just that, for as long as she'll let him.

* * *

She hasn't been this sick since she was a child, so naturally she gets taken down right before exams, as if she wasn't already behind enough as is. She tried to drag her ass to class on Friday, but Robin told her no, had tried to explain, but she did not have the energy to fight him. She hadn't even tried to go on Thursday, had slept right through class and most of the day. Everything from Wednesday night on is sort of fuzzy, but she knows he was here. He made sure she ate, took care of her and spent his nights with her, because she apparently begged him to stay—something she has absolutely no recollection of. She does remember wanting him near, stealing comfort from his soft touches, and being lulled to sleep by gentle back rubs.

She's a little embarrassed she basically forced him to take care of her and made him risk getting sick himself. He has so much going on and he took on yet another burden to take care of her. She's grateful for it, but also guilty. She's been looking out for him, but she was incapable of doing that the past few days.

She's feeling a lot better now, not one hundred percent yet, she's definitely over the hump though. Her limbs are no longer heavy and aching and she's getting her energy back. She's left with an awful sounding cough and a runny nose, but it's a huge improvement from how useless she has been.

She barely left her bed since Wednesday night, apart from a soothing hot bath she almost fell asleep in last night with Robin. He's back at his place now, she remembers him telling her before he left that he was going to check on the cat because John is away for the weekend with his family. It's the Easter weekend, which seems crazy that it's happening already, but it's really early this year. There hadn't even been a class on Friday for her to attend, but her brain had been too fried to realize that at the time. Luckily, she'd already told her parents she wasn't coming home, that she was going to use the weekend to buckle down and study because she would have gotten an earful from her mother if she had cancelled last minute or had come home like this.

She doesn't know if Robin had plans—he must not have, he wouldn't have dropped them to take care of her, right? He wouldn't have, he better not have, she'll feel terribly guilty if she's taken him away from Easter plans, he needs stuff like that right now.

She was going to have Zelena, Mal and Robin over for dinner tomorrow, and any other of their friends who didn't go home for the holiday. She still wants to do something, but she won't cook and risk infecting them all.

She texts Mal to propose a new plan and finds out she's already made a reservation at a nice restaurant for them all, all she has to do is show up tomorrow at six if she's feeling up to it. That will be nice, a last dinner together before she disappears, as Mal says, into exam mode.

This time she won't be doing her usual studying intently for weeks at a time without seeing anyone, because she's going to want to check on Robin, to make sure he's okay and offer him help in whatever way she can. It will be different, but she'll manage, and hell, it will probably be good for her. She's always struggled with the right balance, and while she can intensely focus for long periods and go without seeing or talking to anyone, she's well aware that it's not the healthiest.

Robin texts that he's on his way back and she changes out of her pajamas, only into sweats, but it's progress, makes her feel like she's done something. She meanders down the stairs and makes some tea, putting some honey and lemon in it because Robin had been making her something like that, and maybe it was placebo or just him, but it seemed to work. She remembers vaguely feeling better every time he got her a mug, but maybe that was just because she was drinking hot liquid, who knows. She should find out from him what it is, in case it really does help.

She asks him when he gets back, and is told, "Honey, lemon, ginger, it's my mum's cure all," as he sits down on the couch beside her.

She slides closer as she asks, "Does it work?"

He smiles, "Yeah, it really does. She's really into natural remedies, this one is the best of hers, by far. Some are super gross."

"Like what?"

"I was getting bad heartburn for a while and she told me to take a shot of apple cider vinegar every morning. I did one and _never again_."

She laughs as he grimaces over the memory. It's nice to hear him talk this way about her, to know that the good memories aren't overshadowed by her illness, that he can find joy again in thinking of her.

Robin goes wistful, "You should hear the crazy herbs and stuff she's trying now. She's really gone deep into research, looking at treatments, things she can do, tricks from other people. It all seems almost futile to me, but I'd never say that to her because what if I managed to talk her out of something that actually worked? I'd hate myself…"

Her hand rubs up and down his arm, a subtle comfort as she asks, "How is she doing?" Robin hasn't wanted to talk about it, has limited what he says to how unfair it all is and how awful the disease is.

"She's… she's strong, she's a fighter. She's… she's somehow accepted it, and I just can't fathom ever getting there, and I don't know that I want to. Well, I do but…" he sighs, "I want to be able to get where she is, and I feel guilty being such a wreck over this because I know it upsets her even though she says it doesn't. But, maybe if I'd had the same amount of time they'd had I'd feel different now."

"How long has she known for?"

His, "almost four months," is surprisingly bitter, but then she can't imagine having _that_ hidden for so long.

"Have you talked about that, the why? Maybe that would help with your anger."

"I'm not—I don't get to be angry with her."

She raises a brow, glad he caught his denial, because he clearly is angry. "She hid it from you, you are allowed to be angry about that."

He shakes his head, "It has no purpose, it doesn't accomplish anything."

"That may be true, but you feel it and pushing it down isn't going to make it go away."

He smiles softly then, his tone gently teasing as he remarks, "That's something you know well, I take it."

She nods, that's a huge understatement, it's basically her MO to push things down, pretend they don't exist, tell herself they are irrational or deny them until she's forced to confront them. "It's always worse if you do that, let yourself feel it, figure out what you need to let it go and try and work toward that."

"It's just… I know why she did it, but she shouldn't have. She said sorry and I know she is, but… I just wish we could go back and change it, but that's stupid because it can't happen, so I don't know."

"Have you told her how you feel, that you are angry about it?"

He shakes his head vehemently, "No! She has more than enough going on, and I shouldn't burden her with it."

"Do you think that maybe she already knows?"

He ponders that for a moment, "Yeah, she probably does. Actually, I know she does because she told me I'm allowed to be mad about it when she apologized. I just don't want to be. I love her, she's great, I should have been able to forgive it easily."

"Beating yourself up about it isn't doing you any good."

He sighs, "That's true. This whole thing has been life changing, and I go back and forth on being okay over how much it fucked me up. I can't win though, the times I feel good there's like this lingering guilt, but then when I feel bad it hurts my mum and I don't want to do that. It's all a mess, I'm a mess. And it's… yeah…" He slumps farther into the couch, his hand coming to trace spirals on her arm as he changes the subject, "How are you feeling?"

She takes the change in stride, understanding that he's done talking about it. "Better, not great, but getting there."

"That's good."

She takes a chance on a tease, "Should be back to feeding you by Monday." He hesitates for a second, and crap, she thought it would go over better. His silence prompts her to ask nervously, "What is it?"

"I need you to stop that. I really really appreciate everything you've done for me, but it was a welcome change to take care of you instead. I think I needed that, to get me back on track. I was relying too heavily on you. I need to get back into my routine, doing all my things myself, it helps."

God, she didn't realize, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"You don't need to be sorry, it was really helpful then, I just don't need it anymore." He smirks softly as he remarks, "I'm not saying I won't take some dinner from you during the exam period if you offer, but I gotta get back to doing it all. Oh, and I guess I should give this back," he says, holding up her extra key, and wait, when did she give him that, _did_ she give him that?

"How did you…"

"You told me where it was on Thursday when I left for class. You were really out of it, and I didn't want to leave you here with the door unlocked. I hope you don't mind that I kept it for a couple days, I was here so often it—"

"I don't mind at all. It's fine, seriously." She's half tempted to tell him to keep it, that he can come over anytime with it, but that is not a good idea, she doesn't want him to thinks she's insane—because suggesting that would be insane—so she takes her key from him and sets it down on the coffee table.

"So do you want me to get out of your hair or…?"

No, she doesn't want that, she likes him here, far too much, so she'll enjoy it while she can. "Stay, unless you have something you need to do. I've taken up so much of your time this week—"

"I didn't mind, really, like I said, it was good for me, and I'd like to stay. I should go home to Merry tonight though, so she's not lonely, but outside of that, I'm good here."

God, she loves him, no likes him, likes him a lot. She has strong feelings, but she doesn't love him, he's just such a great guy, and any woman would be lucky to have him.

"Are you okay with studying?" she asks, knowing that she needs to get to work.

"Yeah, I need to get on that."

That's rather perfect and it's what they do for two hours or so until her eyes start to get heavy and he urges her to rest. They end up napping together on the couch after he admits that he, too, could go for a nap. They make it work by cuddling up tight and when she wakes up still wrapped in his embrace, she never wants to leave it.

* * *

 **Thank you all for sticking with this story and for all the love and support. This story is going on a brief hiatus while I write my LoveFromOQ fic but I'll be back to getting this finished as soon as I'm done with that fic.**


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